The Art of Drowning
by Quiet
Summary: Drowning properly was an art, one that Light had long perfected after the murder of his friend and finding the Death Note, but a chance moment leaves Light struggling to breath as he stumbles his way through a decade long conspiracy. And then there's L.
1. Past Meets Present

**A/N: **Hi there! Welcome to AoD! Please, come in, don't be shy. Have a look around, and if you see something you like, let me know. :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note. I only own a few OCs, sprinkles for my pancakes, and the plot.

Well, to all my past readers who have happened to look back to the first chapter, yep. I'm revising. To all my new readers, yeah, I didn't like how it flowed the first time around, but you'll never know how if flew, will you?

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Past Meets Present_

* * *

**England 1986**

* * *

Detective Arthur Miller stepped gingerly over the mutilated corpse of a young woman. He tried not to look at her face, but in the end, he couldn't stop himself. Terrified, blank eyes regarded him unseeing. He shuddered, looking away. Arthur couldn't even breath properly. The air was thick with the smell of blood, and it was making his stomach turn uncomfortably.

He started when a flash of light briefly brightened the dim bedroom, but scolded himself almost immediately. He should have expected it. Pictures were being taken of the crime scene. The small apartment that him and his partner had been called to was crawling with CSI.

Arthur stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder, his mind flashing to the mutilated corpse just behind him.

"Well, hey there, Miller. I was wondering when you were going to show up."

The man must have felt Arthur's tensed muscles. His partner, Jack Byron, turned his gaze to the staring corpse behind them, and chuckled.

"Relax, Miller. Don't be so jumpy. She's dead. Not much she can do to you now," teased his partner. Arthur pursed his lips, embarrassed that he had been seen through so easily.

"Shut up, Byron," Arthur muttered, shaking off his partner's heavy hand.

"It's okay, Miller. This is your first murder scene to call on. For all intents and purposes, you're still just a rookie when it comes to this shit. I guarantee you a few more murder scenes like this, and you won't even bat an eye! Everyone eventually gets used to it," assured Byron.

But Arthur didn't _want_ to see anymore murder scenes like this, and he sure as hell didn't want to become used to this sort of thing. It wasn't natural to look death in the eye and feel _nothing_.

"Have you checked out the male yet?" asked Bryon, changing the subject. The way he said it, so casual like, seemed inappropriate. It was as if he was discussing the weather.

Arthur shook his head. "If it's anything like this victim here, I don't think I want to."

Byron shook his head. "Nope, nothing like her. He's worse. He was partially decapitated. Horrible way to die, decapitation. I don't know why it was so popular among the monarchy there a few centuries ago. You'd think the aristocratic type would prefer something a bit more dignified."

"Bloody hell, Byron," muttered Arthur under his breath. Byron just shrugged him off.

Arthur was slightly unsettled at how easily Byron linked a brutal murder to the cold history of the British monarchy. Did this sort of thing honestly not affect his partner to the extent that it did Arthur? Sure, Byron had been a detective for a year or so longer than Arthur himself, but could Byron really have become so desensitized that this sort of thing didn't _bother_ him anymore?

Arthur honestly couldn't fathom it.

"Well, at least the kid's alive," said Byron, inspecting an opened box full of cigars. "Hey, these are imported! Must have cost pretty penny."

"Have they dusted for prints here yet?" asked Arthur pointedly, knowing his partner's penchant for cigars.

Byron shrugged. "I wasn't going to touch them."

Suddenly, Arthur remembered what Bryon had said. He had been too busy making sure his partner kept his hands to himself to realize what Byron was saying.

"A kid?" questioned Arthur, horrified to think that there was a dead child somewhere in the small home.

"Yeah. Little kid, too. Or, well, more like a baby, if I had to guess. Couldn't be older than two. They got him to the hospital pretty fast. Poor thing was covered in blood," explained Byron.

"His blood?" asked Arthur, almost afraid to know the answer.

"A little bit of his and the mother's, I think. Apparently the landlady in the flat below us got the police over here fast enough that the killer didn't get to the kid. They found the baby close to the mother's body, injured but still alive."

"That's horrible," said Arthur.

Byron nodded. "Yeah, but it happens. Everyday."

"Was it a girl or a boy?" asked Arthur, curious.

"Boy. Weird name too. Bright? No, no, Light! Yeah, Light."

"Light? Do you know what's going to happen to him?" asked Arthur, his mind mulling over the boy's name. It was a bit unorthodox.

Byron ran a hand through messy hair. "Beats me. If there aren't any other relatives for the boy to go to, then he'll go to an orphanage, I'm sure."

"Shame," said Arthur, his spirits, if possible given the circumstances, lowering even further. The kid would never know his parents. Arthur had never known his father, but at least he had had his mother. This poor boy wouldn't have any parents.

"Yeah, it is," replied Byron, his attention once again on the expensive cigars. Arthur repressed a sigh. His partner was incorrigible, and even though Byron was five years his senior, the other man didn't act like it.

"So was it the work of Fortune? Has anyone found a cookie?" asked Arthur, calling Byron's attention back to him.

Byron shook his head. "No, there hasn't been one found yet. My guess is as good as yours, but since the murderer didn't have enough time to kill the kid, then he mustn't have had enough time to leave his calling card. But the murder fits his pattern - young interracial couples with young children. But, hey, that's what we're here for, right? To find out?"

Arthur nodded, distracted, as he mulled over the chances of this murder being the work of the serial killer, Fortune, who had been terrorizing the streets of London for nearly three months now. If this was the work of Fortune, so named because of the fortune cookie he'd leave behind at each murder, then it would be the nineth family murdered. That boy was the only survivor.

Byron grumbled as he spotted a few of their coworkers walk through the door. "I think we're going to be here a few hours. Maybe I should run and get us some coffee from that gas station down the street."

Arthur nodded absently. "Will they put the boy in protective custody? If it's Fortune, there's a chance the serial killer could want to finish the job."

"Hey, I never thought of it that way. I'll mention something to the cheif. Now, do you want sugar or cream?"

"It's not that I don't _want_ to take the boy! It's that I _can't_ take the boy! This place is overflowing as it is! There's no room for him," exclaimed Martha Wallace.

She paused, listening the voice in the receiver, her expression growing more exasperated.

"Well, what am I supposed to do about it? When I say we have no room, I mean we have _no room_! I'm not trying to be bloody _funny_ about it!" she yelled into the phone.

She glared at the clock hanging on the wall across from her, simply because she had no one and nothing else to glare at.

"What do you mean there's no other options! There's _always_ options!"

She gripped the phone.

"You mean to tell me that I should be expecting _more_ phone calls like this?!" she asked, incredulous.

A pause.

"Double up?" she gasped.

How could these people expect her orphanage to _double up_?

The man continued, explaining exactly _why_ and _how_ he expected Martha's orphanage to double up.

Martha sighed, aggravated and ill tempered. There wasn't really anything she could do about it at this point.

Her state funded orphanage, which she had been the overseer for over twenty years, should have been the last resort for the state to place an orphaned baby. There were no beds left. However, it seemed as if her orphanage was one of the least crowded. She hadn't even been aware that it had gotten so bad. She should write a letter to the Prime Minister. New orphanages needed building, and the existing ones needed more funding.

"Seeing as my hands are tied, I guess I don't have much of a choice," she conceded, her voice tight with anger.

"Tomorrow? Fine. Yes, goodbye."

She hung up the phone with a defeated sigh, the anger draining out of her. Really, she might as well get used to it.

Almost immediately her fax machine buzzed on. She reached out, plucking the papers from the machine. Adjusting her reading glasses, she studied the documents.

_Light Layfield. Thirteen months old. 24 pounds. Brown Eyes, brown/auburn hair. Distinguishing features include birthmark, and large mole on left thigh. Parents -_

Martha frowned as she read over the circumstances leading to his becoming an orphan.

"Poor child," she tutted.

Now she'd have to find a bed for the boy. She grimaced when she remembered that there would be more children like Light coming to her orphanage. Well, if they would have to be doubling up the children to sleep two to a bed, she might as well make sure that it was organized right from the start.

She swiveled in her chair, bending low to pull open a file cabinet that contained all of the files of children three and under who were currently residing in the orphanage.

_Lake, Lamb, Langham, Lathem, Larmon, Lawliet._ Lawliet. It was the last child in the L's, the one before where Layfield's file would inevitably be placed besides as her files were painstakingly filed in alphabetical order. She pulled his file.

"Hmm, yes. Good, good. Not too far apart in age. L? What an odd first name. Almost as odd as Light. Well, no matter," she muttered to herself.

The rummaged through her drawer in search of a new manila folder. She needed to go ahead and set up the boy's file, and even though she wasn't excited about her orphanage growing any larger, she was satisfied with her foresight in organizing things straight from the start.

She glanced at the picture of L Lawliet that was paperclipped inside his file, smiling soflty at the dark haired child. She hoped the two would get along

* * *

**Japan, Kira Investigation Headquarters, 2004**

* * *

"L _Lawliet_?"

Stunned silence greeted Light's question, but the reaction was immediate. L slammed his foot into Light's head, causing Light's neck to snap back. Light was too dazed, _too shocked_ to fight back, and failed to block the second kick, which left him on the floor, head swimming, and darkness creeping slowly across his vision.

The last thing Light saw was feet, _L's feet_, and then he knew no more.

L gazed at the unconscious man lying on the floor, his mind in turmoil. No one knew his name - _no one_. And despite all of his work at keeping his identity a well hidden secret, this man, the man who L was slightly over 95% sure was Kira, knew L's face and now his name.

It was then that L realized, with a detached sort of horror, that he was as good as dead.

His cell phone vibrated.

"I understand you saw the exchange?" asked L upon answering. His voice did not betray the panic slowly rising within him.

"Yes. How did he find out?" came the tense reply.

"I haven't a clue, Watari."

"Well, what do you suggest we do with him? He's the main suspect in the Kira case, and he now knows both your face and your name."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me, Watari," said L somewhat ruefully. As if he didn't know what that meant for him. "We will have to put him back in confinement until I can think of something else. He needs to be monitored around the clock. And restrained. Definitely restrained . . ."

L trailed off, biting desperately at his thumb.

"L?"

He came back to himself. "I'm here. Watari, I will need your help in getting him down to the observation room and properly secured."

"I'll get the camera's back online in that room."

"Yes, please do. I'll have much to discuss with Yagami when he awakens, and I would like to review the interrogation tapes later."

* * *

It was dark. He couldn't see a thing, but . . .

He could hear.

He could hear . . . laughter?

"_Lawli 1,894 to Light 1,883."_

"_Hey! That's no fair, Lawli! You cheated!"_

"_Just because I happen to know more about the mating rituals of Galapagos tortoises -"_

"_That's not what I meant! You were distracting me on purpose! How was I-"_

"_I think Light is just a sore loser."_

"_I'm not a sore loser!"_

"_Oh, you're not? Then what kind of loser are you?"_

"Lawli_!"_

"Light_!"_

_A tired sigh._

"_You drive me insane, Lawli. I swear you'll be the death of me one day."_

"_And if I'm not the death of you, you'll get mad, won't you? Because you can't stand to be wrong. Even about the silly things."_

"_Oh hardy harr harr. We'll probably just end up killing each other anyways."_

"_Oh really? And how do you propose we'll do that, Light?"_

_A shrug. Then -_

"_Drag racing."_

_Silence._

"_Drag racing?"_

"_Drag racing."_

"_I not sure I can see myself drag racing, Light."_

"_Oh, you'll drag race with me one day, Lawli. I know you. Your pride won't let you say no if it's a challenge."_

"_I still don't know how this is supposed to kill us."_

"_Oh come on! Just think about it, Lawli! We both hate to lose. So in our overzealousness in winning, we'll accidentally crash our cars into each other, leaving this life in a burning blaze of glory!"_

"_You say that like it's a good thing. But Light, I don't really want to die in a burning blaze of glory. __Hey, is overzealousness a word?"_

"_Pfft. This coming from the guy who makes up his own words to just annoy me? Shut up. You're getting me off topic. And, well, you might be right about the fire. Burning alive probably isn't very pleasant. Or quick. We'll just have to make sure that we're going fast enough to die when we impact, I suppose."_

"_Lawli 1,895 to Light 1,883."_

"_What!? Why!?!"_

"_Because, Light. You just told me I was right."_

"_I said that you _might _be right!"_

"_Nonetheless, you referred to myself and being right in the same sentence. It counts."_

"_Lawli?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Bite me."_

"_Sore loser."_

"_Come over here, and I'll _show _you sore!"_

And then the voices bled away, the childish rings of laughter merging and melting into the quiet of his brain.

The darkness was replaced by a sudden light.

_White, blinding light._

His eyelids fluttered against the brightness. He was on the ground, his hands and feet tied, squinting up at the the bright light on the ceiling. For a moment, he was confused. He wasn't sure where he was or how he had gotten there. But then a name flashed through his mind, and along with that came the vestiges of a memory.

Lawli . . . was alive.

_Lawli was alive_!

A cold realization settled into his stomach. The implications were . . . unfathomable.

Lawli was _L_. And Light was _Kira_. They were mortal enemies. Bitter rivals. L was the one major obstacle standing between Kira and his perfect world, and Kira wanted L to die.

So did that mean . . . _Light_ wanted _Lawli_ . . . to . . . .die?

_No._

It was too much. Way too much. Light felt as if his brain was overloading. The realization that Ryuuzkaki or L was truly _L Lawliet_ was causing sharp pains to stab at his heart. How could he have spent so much time with the man, but only saw the truth now? Right before his plan was to come to fruition?

His plan - to kill L.

Light groaned, turning his head away from the peircing light in horror and dismay. Light was Kira. Lawli was L. And Light had almost, _almost_ murdered Lawli. _Kira_ would still murder Lawli, if given the opportunity.

_**No.**_

Light couldn't be Kira. He _wouldn't _be Kira! Not when Kira's desire for Lawli's blood, no matter who he had been to Light in the past, ran so strong within him. How could Light kill the man who had once upon a time meant more to him than anything else in this world? Kira's greatest desire took the form of a world in which he was God. Light's greatest desire took the form of a small dark eyed boy.

Now who's will was stronger?

Light just wanted Lawli. He had _always_ just wanted Lawli. Lawli had been Light's special person - his best friend and only family. His only _real_ family, at least. And all Light wanted now was his family - Lawli. He wanted Lawli, and the desire to cling to the other man was childish and desperate, but Light didn't see the point in trying to quell the feelings.

Lawli.

The name burned in his heart.

_Lawli._

The man was alive. He had never died. But how? Why?

And he was L.

_L?_

_Lawli?_

Was L still Lawli? Was he still the boy that Light had known nearly a decade ago? Or was he someone else now?

And suddenly Light felt as if he were drowning.

Angry tears filled his eyes, and he wasn't strong enough. He wasn't _fucking_ strong enough to stop them! His mind was a raging maelstrom. He was Kira. He was Light. He wanted L dead. He wanted L alive.

Light didn't despise the world with quite the gusto that Kira did. There were some good people out there - not all of them were rotten. Not all of them deserved to die. Soichirou and Sachiko were good people. The taskforce was made up of good people. Lawli . . . Lawli was another good person. Perhaps the most important one.

But, no! He was Kira! _Light_ didn't have a place in Kira's world! There was no use for doubt or pathetic emotions or family! He had a duty to cleanse the rotting world of the scum that suffocated its streets! Someone had to see that Justice was brought to this world, and who better than him?

But . . .

Light slammed his head back against the concrete flooring with a strangled cry.

Why should he be subject to such base, human emotions! It was pathetic! _He_ was pathetic! Why wasn't he strong enough? Wasn't he a god? Weren't gods above humans? So why was Light suddenly _feeling_?! Why?! Why couldn't he just go back to the nothingness? It was easier when all he felt was nothing. When all he had been was the logical, cooly calculating creature known as Kira.

_Lawli._

Light gritted his teeth against a sob. He had never felt so torn in his life.

_Fucking Lawli_ . . . Light had done _everythin_g in his power to forget about the boy. And now - this.

In the past, if something had reminded Light of Lawli, then the only thing Light would ever allow himself to feel in response was the need for revenge - for justice - against the murderer who had taken his best friend away from him and had never been caught. But Lawli hadn't been murdered like Light had believed.

Lawli was alive . . . and he was L.

Who Kira wanted _dead_ above all else. It always came back to that, no matter what Light felt on the matter.

Light cried out once again. It was too much. All of these feelings. All of these _emotions_. He felt lost.

He slammed his head against the floor again, and the pain helped him focus.

Light had shut himself down when Lawli had died. He had kept himself unfeeling, emotionless, unattached - everything that he was _not_ at the moment. Attachment led to pain and sorrow and loss, but revenge would ultimately lead to justice. Justice for Lawli, and justice for Light. Revenge was the only emotion-driven thing he had ever allowed him to feel after Lawli's death because of this.

_But Lawli wasn't dead anymore._ What happened to justice when justice wasn't needed?

What was he supposed to do? His dream of a perfect world in which he could rule as God was greatly fueled by revenge and justice for someone who wasn't dead anymore. What did that matter now that Lawli was alive? Did Light even really care about the world now that Lawli was back?

And who was _he_ now? Light? Kira? Raito? Yagami? Layfield?

Who was he, and why did he _feel_ like this? Like he was _drowning_? Like he couldn't even catch his breath?

Feelings of grief were suddenly making themselves known after nearly a decade of suppression, and they left Light grasping at not only reality, but his identity as well.

He didn't know who he was anymore. He didn't know what to do anymore.

And Light did something he hadn't done in years - he let go.

* * *

It was four in the morning, and Raito had yet to awaken, so L was in the kitchen, slowly and methodically eating his way through a sixteen piece cheesecake. It could have tasted like cardboard, for all L knew.

He had been watching the still form of Yagami Raito through the monitors for hours. The pot of tea that Watari had provided him had disappeared within minutes, and soon enough his body demanded something more.

He took another bite, rolling the cake around in his mouth absently.

Yagami Raito knew his name, but how did he figure it out? L was deeply unsettled by this turn of events. He was almost positive that Yagami Raito was Kira. The only thing that L truly lacked was enough evidence to convict the younger man.

He was 67% sure that Raito had no recollection of his time as the first Kira, but that percentage had already dropped significantly during the past week since Higuchi's death. He was becoming more and more certain that Light _had_ regained his memories.

L brought another fork full of cheesecake to his mouth, chewing mechanically, his eyes unfocused.

He would have to explain the situation to the team. They wouldn't be happy in the least, but even if Yagami Raito wasn't Kira, which he probably was, L still wouldn't let him leave confinement until he was absolutely certain that Raito was not Kira, which more than likely wouldn't be soon.

He growled to himself, shoving another bite of cake into his mouth.

Whether it led back to Yagami or not, L couldn't have his number one suspect running about with his name.

Unless . . .

Could he chain Raito back to himself? What was riskier? Keeping Raito chained to himself all the time or leaving him alone in a monitored room? What could L catch that the cameras couldn't, and vice versa?

His phone vibrated. L stared at the screen, and briefly entertained the thought of ignoring the call. With a resigned sigh, L flipped open his phone.

"Has there been a change, Watari?" he asked, eyeing a forkful of cake.

"You need to see this," came the shocked voice on the other end.

L put the fork down. "What? What is it?"

"Just come down here at once, L. There's something wrong with Yagami."

"Wrong? Fine, I'll be there momentarily," he conceded, closing his phone.

L gazed longingly at the rest of the cheesecake, but turned away from it.

Once he reached the right floor, L let his bare feet reluctantly carry him to the room down the hall. He was honestly upset about this whole ordeal. After all, Raito-kun was his very first friend, and L did not make friends easily. Well, actually, L did not make friends at all. It wouldn't say much about L if the only man who he had ever befriended murdered him.

L's musings were shattered by a piercing scream.

His heart seizing in fear, L sprinted the rest of the way down the hall.

* * *

**A/N: **I love this story. I really really do. And I love going back and revising. Oh, le sigh, such good memories. :D

Okay people, lemme hear from ya!


	2. Your Own Personal Boogeyman

**A/N: **Ack, I can't believe I lost this chapter! Thank you so much Shi-Koi!!! You rock! And thank you everyone who sent me a copy of this chapter. You are all life savers!!!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Your Own Personal Boogeyman_

* * *

"_He's just trying to scare you, Lawli. Don't let him."_

"_B-but, Li-Light! What if th-th-the _ghost_ -"_

"_LAWLI! There's no such thing as ghosts, stupid! Walter was just making it up to scare you!"_

"_I'm not scared!"_

_At least Light had riled Lawli up enough that he had gotten rid of that ridiculous stutter._

"_Sure, you're not," Light replied easily._

"_I'm not! And you and I both know that this building was converted into an orphanage from a sanatorium! There's been a plethora of mentally unstable people dying in and around this building throughout the years!" glared Lawli._

"_Yes, but what are the chances that their undead souls haunt the rooms of eight year olds, Lawli?"_

"_Well, technically, I'm ten. You're eight. And according to Walter, it's pretty high!"_

"_Of course Walter would say it's high! He's a big, fat bully, and all he wants to do is scare you, and you know what? You're letting him! Where did your common sense go, Lawli? Up a tree?"_

"_Why would my common sense go up a tree, Light? That, in an of itself, is a contradiction to your statement. Common sense is a metaphorical concept that lacks the physicality to scale trees. Lawli 1,997 to Light 1,999. _Ha_, I'm catching up."_

_Light scowled at the smug look on his friend's face. He didn't want to lose his lead, but at least Lawli wasn't harping on about that stupid ghost Walter had mentioned at dinner. _

_It was quiet. They had been whispering to each other, albeit heatedly. Since they both shared the same bed, it was easy to stay up late and talk since they were in such close proximity._

_It had been that way for as long as either of them could remember._

"_Light?" asked Lawli, his voice sounding very small all of the sudden, even in a whisper._

_Light was immediately worried at the abrupt change in mood the conversation had taken. He sighed. Lawli was scared again._

"_Yeah, Lawli?"_

"_J-just in case there are gh-ghosts haunting this place, you'd protect me, right?"_

_Light smiled slightly. Even though Lawli was about two years older than him, he sure didn't act like it all the time._

"_Well, _duh_, Lawli. I'll always protect you. No matter what kind of boogey man is trying to get you."_

* * *

L felt his heart stop when he heard the scream. All he could think about was Raito standing over a bloodied and weak Watari.

However, he could not have anticipated the sight that greeted him after slamming into the room. Watari was standing in front of the monitors, perfectly healthy, and staring at the thrashing figure featured from several different angles on the rows of monitor screens.

It was then that L noticed that the screaming had _not_ stopped, and that it was coming from the man on the screen. Raito.

"_What?_" he asked, dazedly. His shocked question was rhetorical, but Watari answered nonetheless.

"I haven't the faintest."

"How long has this been going on?" asked L, sitting in his favorite spin chair, knees drawn to his chest.

"Hurting himself like that? Only a few minutes. He just started screaming."

L's mind leapt from theory to theory on what could have caused Raito to act in such a manner. He had never seen the man act in such a way before, and it unsettled him.

"I should wait until he stops, before I go in there," suggested L, chewing madly at his thumb.

Watari hummed in agreement.

But the sobbing didn't stop and neither did the thrashing. Not for over two hours, and when it did, it was only because the man's voice couldn't scream anymore. The choked sobs still came. Watari had retired to bed, intent on getting a few more hours sleep before meeting with the investigation team on L's behalf. L hadn't the inclination to deal with them.

L quirked his head slightly, studying the gasping, withering figure on the screen. He hated waiting. It was so tedious.

"I can't stand it anymore," L murmured to himself.

He sat his tea down with a decisive clink. He desired nothing more than to find out what was happening. He just couldn't stand _not_ knowing. At first he had postulated that this was a trick of Kira's, or that maybe Raito had regained his memories of his time as Kira and was having a very adverse reaction.

It could still very well be any of those reasons, but L didn't know for sure. The screaming had gone on for an awfully long time, and now it had dwindled down to gasping sobs. So instead of sitting around pontificating on the various reasons for Raito's sudden knowledge and subsequent breakdown, L was going to find out what was happening.

He opened the door to find Raito more or less in the exact position he had been in for the past couple of hours.

Raito looked up to see who had entered, and when he saw L, his quiet sobs stopped all together.

Raito stared at L wide eyed, as if he was seeing a ghost, with some sort of emotion that L couldn't identify, and had never seen within Raito's eyes before.

It most definitely put him on edge.

* * *

Light couldn't stop the sobs, and he didn't try. He had screamed for what seemed like days, but they had eventualy stopped coming. However, his sobs were never ending, just like the pain. He hadn't even noticed the degradation of his vocal chords until the door had opened and _he_ was there, staring at him.

L.

_Lawli._

What had he done? What had Light done to get himself in this mess? He was so confused, heartbroken, and happy at the same time that the emotional cocktail almost made him physically ill.

He was Kira.

But he was also Light, and had been Light much longer than he had ever been Kira.

Light hadn't spent so long screaming and sobbing _just because_ he was upset. That didn't mean he wasn't. God, no, he was upset. Unbearably, painfully, _indescribably_ upset. But he was also waging a battle within himself so violent that the screams of rage and pain tore out of him without censure.

Light vs. Kira.

Kira vs. Light.

And Light was terrified that he would be overcome by the darkness that resided within him.

It was like two different people were battling for dominance in the same body. On one side was Kira, the insanity and darkness that had twisted naïve, but noble intentions into the blackest form of blasphemy, helped along by Light's thirst for justice to be brought to Lawli's murderer, and his fear that someone else he may come to love would fall victim to the rotten people who commited such heinous crimes in this world.

Then there was Light.

Light was the one who had been so horrified at the atrocities he had committed when he had first come into contact with the Death Note that he had been physically ill. He recognized Kira's intentions as short-sighted and naive. Yes, the world was full of rotten people, but the world would always be filled with rotten people no matter what happened, and Kira's work would not last. He truly wasn't a god, no matter what his alter-ego believed. And Light loved his friend. He would never want to dishonor Lawli's memory by bending to the will of Kira.

But despite his intentions, Light had. He had dishonored Lawli in the worst way possible. He was too weak and had given in too easily, and the Death Note had amplified the subtle darkness within Light until it had completely eclipsed any of the good that still remained, creating Kira in its wake.

Kira had taken over. That dark part of his soul had completely drowned Light in its darkness in that moment of horror and weakness as Light fully realized the repercussions of using the Death Note so long ago. That was when Light had been lost.

Kira was a sociopath, a sick bastard riddled with megalomania and suffering from a severe Messiah complex, and he had wrecked havoc on the world.

But then Light had given up ownership of the Death Note. Kira had retreated to the dark recesses of his mind, and Light was once again free. Kira was not influencing him in any overt way, and for the first time in months, Light had been free of the insanity.

However, his memories had returned, and Kira had risen once again. It wasn't until Light had realized exactly _who_ had been sitting across from him for months that Kira's power had faltered, and Light had seized the opportunity to gain control from Kira, his alter-ego who desired nothing more than to see L dead and the world bend to his will.

It was strange for Light to actively consider Kira as a different entity rather than a darker, more sinister reputation of Light's sins, but it was easier for Light to identify with Kira as if it _was_ another entity, because Light was certain that no part of himself would want his best friend dead. For all Light really knew, Kira was a separate being brought about by the Death Note that just happened to share his mind.

And Light did not want Lawli dead. Not again. Not _ever_ again. He'd be damned to the darkest circle of Hell before Light could ever harm his friend.

Therefore, Kira was a separate entity, an entity that must, at all costs, not win against Light's will. It was that simple.

But fighting the darkness within him was by no means simple.

The battle within his mind that had left Light a screaming, thrashing figure on the floor had been a close one. Kira had relented, escaping to the corners of Light's mind, slithering and caressing Light's mind in such a grotesque way that Light swore he could feel it. But Light was in control again. He was _really_ in control for the very first time in months, and that was the important thing. He wasn't without his memories, and he was completely in control, just like it had once been before the Death Note had entered his life.

But with this thought, the darkness lashed out at his consciousness before slinking back into his mind once again, as if subtley reminding him that it was still there. No, maybe it would never be like it had once been, but it close enough that Light could control the darkness that resided within him.

For now.

And when Lawli walked into his cell, the darkness had shied away from the love that Light still carried for his long lost friend. Light embraced his feelings, relishing the way that Kira had all but disappeared. It was then that he could finally stop the broken sobs escaping his mouth.

Light gazed at Lawli in wonder. This was the boy, no, he was a man now, that Light had grown up with. They had spent years together. Up until what Light had believed was their permanent separation, Light had not gone one single day without somehow being in physical contact with him. He had quite literally spent almost a full decade with Lawli, and he had to protect him from Kira, at any cost.

The thought came from nowhere, but Light grabbed onto it like a lifeline. Hadn't that always been Light's job? He had always been Lawli's protector, and he would protect Lawli with his dying breath, even if it meant protecting Lawli from the_ thing_ that resided within _himself_.

A tentative plan began to form within his mind, and Light let it alone. He didn't quite grasp the details, but he knew that it would make itself known when the time was right. His plans always worked out that way.

Light lifted his eyes once more to the silent figure who had entered the cell, catching the detective's guarded gaze.

It was like Light was really _seeing_ the detective for the very first time, despite how long he had spent in the man's presence. Knowing who the detective truly was had changed the way that Light percieved him. Light desperately searched Lawli's eyes for recognition - any recognition - but found none.

Lawli might have known he was Kira, but obviously that was as far as his knowledge went.

Either that, or Lawli was just a really good actor.

Light didn't know which one was worse.

* * *

**A/N: **tired. so tired. please review.


	3. Confessions of a Serial Killer

**A/N: **HOMAHFRACKINGGAWD! People actually read my story . . . and LIKE it?! Well, hot damn. That's pretty hacking awesome! Thank you all so much for all of your continued support! If I keep on getting this kind of response, well hell, I might just update EVERY day, lol!

I'm so freaking excited about next chapter it's not even funny! XD

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Confessions of a Serial Killer_

* * *

Light wasn't surprised when L wasted no time in starting his interrogation.

"Raito-kun. You have me at a disadvantage."

Light laughed, a choking, self-mocking laugh. Of course he had Lawli at a disadvantage, and he hated himself for it all the more.

"I want to know how Raito-kun knows my name," insisted L, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stared down at Light, his face blank and eyes cold.

How did Light know . . . his name? How _couldn't_ he know his name! Lawli was. . . was Lawli! His best friend! His only friend!

How could Lawli not know _his_ name? Light pushed the thought away almost immediately. Now was not the time.

"I'm still waiting, Raito-kun," said L, voice monotone.

And suddenly Light smiled, perhaps one of the most genuine things he had done in a decade. Light saw right past the cold exterior, because he knew Lawli, and Lawli really hadn't changed. He just didn't know he had been looking at Lawli for all these months, but now that he knew, he wanted to hit himself over the head.

It was so obvious! And _Lawli_ was so obvious!

Light was almost giddy with the realization that he could still read Lawli so well after many years separation.

Lawli was confused, guarded, hesitant. He was dealing with something so completely unexpected that he didn't even have a plan for such a scenario. This whole situation had come completely out of left field, and Lawli was busy looking to his right while the ball had smacked him upside the head.

Light 7,471 to Lawli 7,470.

The tie had been broken.

Finally.

And Light had won. He had won their competition that had spanded years, and Lawli didn't even know.

It was a bittersweet victory, but Light's smile just grew.

It was the smile that must have thrown L _completely_ off balance, because he was suddenly very nervous. Of course, only Light would be able to see that. A happy sigh escaped his lips, and he realized, then and there, that he _was_ happy.

His friend was alive, and Light was happy.

Of course, he still had questions. Where had Lawli been? Why hadn't Lawli found him? How the hell had Lawli become one of the most powerful men in the world in just one short decade?

It was obvious that Lawli didn't know who he was. Lawli wasn't shy, after all. He would have said something after all this time of knowing Light here in Japan.

_Surely_ he would have.

It almost hurt that Lawli had no clue who was tied up in front of him, but the relief was too overwhelming for Light to be terribly upset by it. He didn't want knowledge of his own identity to cause Lawli any pain or discomfort.

But there were so _many_ unanswered questions . . .

It didn't matter. Lawli was alive, and it was Light's job to protect him, even if it meant protecting the detective from himself.

"Raito-kun?" prompted L.

Light blinked. He must still be quite out of it. He shook his head slightly, mindful of the horrible headache his screaming had caused, and tried to clear his thoughts before focusing on L's questions.

"Does it really matter all that much, Ryuuzaki?" inquired Light, having finally rememebered what the previous question had been.

Lawli's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, Raito-kun. It matters quite a bit. It would be very easy for Kira to kill me with that sort of information."

Light chuckled softly. "I'm surprised you're not denying it."

"What's the use in denying it when we both know it's true? Such a course of action won't get me any closer to the answers I seek, Raito-kun."

"Well, you have a point there," agreed Light amiably.

L blinked. He obviously hadn't expected Light to agree with him.

Light laughed. It felt so _damn_ good to laugh properly, even if it was broken and scratchy and decidely uncomfortable against his aching throat. It felt as if he hadn't really laughed in ages.

And Light was happy, for the first time in a such a _very_ long while. It amazed him. It had been years since he had felt happiness to this degree. He had almost given up on happiness.

But L obviously did not share Light's sentiments at the moment. He glared at Light through increasingly narrowed eyes.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Lawliet, and stop glaring at me," snorted Light.

He had used L's real name on purpose just to see how L would react to the use of it. He watched with interest as L flinched, and Light could tell that Lawli was getting angry. He decided that it was time to diffuse the situation before it got violent. Well, before Lawli got violent. Light was still tied up.

"I won't tell you how I know your name, Ryuuzaki. But hopefully I can give you information much better than that," said Light, a small smile playing on his lips. It might have been a bad idea, but this course of action would ensure Lawli's safety.

L's eyes narrowed, and his head tilted a minute degree in curiousity.

"I am Kira."

* * *

L left the room faster than he thought possible. But then again, the impossible seemed to be making a habit of becoming possible lately.

He was seated back on his spin chair, tea clasped tightly within his hands.

What had just happened?

Yagami Raito had just _confessed_ to being Kira, smiling away like a lunatic the entire time. Maybe Raito really was a lunatic, but then again, so was Kira. So the chances of them being one and the same were still - but Kira would _never _confess - and Raito was _smiling_ about . . . .

He was getting a headache.

L frowned, rubbing his temples. There was no denying that he had a confession. He could have Raito administered the lethal injection by this time tomorrow if he so desired.

It was a bloody dream come true. He had won, after he was sure that he had all but lost. L could finally close this monster of a case and return to his coveted solitude, where Yagami Raito couldn't _bother_ him anymore with his cat and mouse games he was so fond of playing with the detective.

L could even take a break, for a week at most, and do nothing but eat cheesecake and strawberries before boredom would undoubtly set in. He would probably even wish for the annoying serial killer to once again share his company, but none the less, a vacation of sorts was just what he needed after this case was closed. It was a fabulous thought, and L actually entertained it for a few quiet moments. It was a dream come true - an impossible dream come true.

So then what was the catch? Things like this just didn't happen without a catch.

There was something vital that L was missing, like some errant shape in a simple 20 piece jigsaw puzzle. It was glaringly obvious that something wasn't right. He was completely in the dark as to the reason behind Raito's sudden change of heart, and L hated being in the dark almost as much as he hated salt.

One would think that Yagami Raito's confession would have solidified L's theory of Raito being Kira 100%. However, L realized belatedly that the impromptu confession had done the complete opposite of solidifying L's suspicion, much to his despair.

L wasn't so certain that Yagami Raito was Kira anymore, which was highly disconcerting, considering that L had never been wrong about this sort of thing before. Unless this debacle was some part of a masterful plan to kill him, he couldn't accept that Raito would give up so easily. That was not like Raito, nor Kira whether they were different people or not.

But what other explanation did L have for Raito's sudden confession?

He took a sip of his tea, grimacing at the coldness, and searched his mind for alternatives.

Whatever had caused Raito such emotional pain and his subsequent confession stemmed from the moment he had uttered L's true name. Did Raito know him? L dismissed it immediately. No, there was no way that Raito could know him. L would remember, and besides, he had never stayed very long in Japan before. He had never socialized either, always being busy on one case or another.

Then what was he missing?

Where had Raito learned his name?

And who else knew?

He was determined to find out, because the more people who knew his name, the more dangerous it was for him. And now that he had his doubts on whether Raito and Kira were truly one and the same, L would not be able to arrest him, confession or no.

L rubbed his temple ruefully. He really _did_ have a headache from this whole ordeal now. He didn't like this newer, unpredictable Raito. The Kira case was going to ruin him for all future cases. He had never been this challenged before.

What he needed now as a plan. L rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the prone figure on the screen. He sighed to himself. He may be upset that Light's percentages of being the original Kira had dropped - he hated to be wrong after all - but he was equally relieved that he wouldn't be arresting Light so soon. L hadn't lied when he had told the teenager that he was L's friend, and L wasn't too keen on losing his friend just yet.

He flipped open his phone, hitting the button that called Watari.

"Yes, L?"

"Has the team arrived yet?"

"No, but they should be here within the hour. I am waiting for them in the investigation room."

"Change of plans, Watari. I'll be up there in a minute. I need to discuss something with the task force."

"Is it about Yagami-kun?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure that is wise, L?"

"No."

"And will you keep Yagami-kun in confinement?"

"Of course, Watari. I was actually hoping to persuade you to keep an eye on him."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

He flipped his phone closed.

L just hoped what he was about to do wasn't completely stupid.

* * *

"_I can't believe how _completely stupid _you are! What possessed you to try something like that!?" _

"_Shut up, Light. You're making my head hurt worse," grumbled L, an ice pack on his head._

"_Well it would serve you right! What were you thinking taking on that Neanderthal? Your upper body strength sucks! That punch you landed bounced off his fat head!"_

"_Yeah, but at least I got him good with that kick," muttered L._

_Light rolled his eyes. "Yeah, after he slammed your head into the pavement. You're just lucky he was standing over you like that, otherwise you might not have been able to incapacitate him as well as you did."_

_L chuckled. "I'm sorry I couldn't warn you, but you jumped on his back just as I was kicking upwards. Sorry he fell on you."_

_Light winced._

"_Eh. I won't deny that five hundred pounds suddenly squishing you isn't fun, but at least he curled over into that fetal position so I could escape," shrugged Light._

"_Walter doesn't weigh five hundred pounds," pointed L._

"_It's called sarcasm, Lawli. I'm surprised your superior brain can't identify it. Guess that just means my brain is more superior. In turn, that means Light 2,654 to Lawli 2,653. I just broke the tie. So take that!"_

"_Ugh. You're being ridiculous. That shouldn't even count! You're just mad because it's been a tie for _sooo_ long."_

_"A week _is_ a long time, but I'm glad you're trying that sarcastic thing out. It suits you," replied Light._

_"Oh, just shut up, and go get me a cookie, would you?"_

_Light snorted. "Yeah, just let me sneak down to the kitchen. I'm sure I won't be caught__. After all, it's not like anybody's in the kitchen preparing dinner at five in the evening."_

"_I don't think I like particularly sarcasm," said L, gingerly touching the knot on his head where Walter had slammed it into the pavement._

"_I don't think I like particularly like Walter one single, tiny, miniscule bit. What did he _say_ to you, Lawli? Why did you try and deck him like that?" demanded Light._

_Lawli mumbled something under his breath._

"_I'm not superman, Lawli. I don't have supersonic hearing."_

"I said_ Walter made a crack about your parents being neglectful druggies who abandoned you, and I got so mad that I hit him."_

_Light blinked._

"_Well, you and I both know that they weren't neglectful druggies. They were murdered. There's a big difference. It's not like they gave me up on purp - Oh. It wasn't all about me, was it?" asked Light, suddenly hesitant._

_Lawli sighed. "No, not completely, but I can't lie and say I was fine with hearing him talk so badly of you. I wasn't."_

"_They might not have been druggies," suggested Light delicately._

_Lawli shrugged. "But they did abandon me, and for all I know, it was on purpose."_

"_At least you got me out of the deal," offered Light, trying to lighten the mood.._

_Lawli laughed, taking Light up on his silent offer for some good natured banter. "Yeah, but I'm not sure if I got the better end or not."_

"_Oh, shut up. You can't live without me, don't deny it. Who would help you get your sweet fix, huh? And who would jump on the backs of five hundred pound Neanderthals when they attack you? And who would you even talk too, anyway? No one our age can keep up with our conversations, half the time anyways."_

"_Well, you got me there. But what about you? Who would put up with _your_ arrogant arse? Your OCD? Your borderline narcissistic tendencies? Who would be able to deflate your head when it got so big it threatened to send you into orbit?"_

"_And who will iron your clothes?" asked Light, not denying what was said. It was all true, after all._

"_I really wish you wouldn't bother."_

"_But _everyone_ looks better in ironed clothes! Even you!" exclaimed Light._

"_It's a waste of time, Light."_

_Light opened his mouth, intent on telling Lawli _exactly_ why it was most certainly _not_ a waste of time, when an electronic bell sounded over the intercom._

"_Dinner," Lawli pointed out unnecessarily._

"_And you need your sweet fix, huh?" sighed Light, giving up on the argument._

_Lawli smiled and nodded. "Strawberry shortcake tonight."_

_Light rolled his eyes, argument forgotten, and together they went in search of cake._

* * *

L shifted from foot to foot. He didn't want to sit down. He was in the operations room waiting for the arrival of the task force. It would be a few minutes still, and L alternated between shifting, pacing, and obsessively scratching his left leg with his foot.

He was not nervous.

L was never nervous.

He was simply unsettled. Yes, unsettled.

Because Yagami-san was always the first member to arrive.

He only hoped that Yagami-san wasn't armed this morning, because he wasn't precisely certain what the resulting actions would be after Chief Yagami was informed of his son's confession.

* * *

**Edited: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Light is SUCH a self-sacrificing martyr, no?

**Now, once again, I urge all of you to hit that big button directly under this sentence and _say a little something_!**


	4. In One Ear, Out the Other

**A/N: **Gee whiz you guys! I'm still shocked and amazed that I'm getting such a good response on this story! Thank ya'll so much for reading and reviewing!

**NOTE (PLEASE READ!!!!!!!): **Yes, I am aware that Light is a tad bit OOC, but seeing as this story is highly (well, not that high, but high enough) AU, then, of course Light is going to be OOC! He's a completely (well, not COMPLETELY, but still) different person that the Light from canon. For example, the Light from canon didn't GROW UP with L as his BEST FRIEND since he was a BABY. Sure as hell didn't share a bed with the kid for X NUMBER OF YEARS.

That sort of constant interaction either brings people together or makes them kill each other. In this case, Light and Lawli's relationship in the past** was an unsually strong one**. They were all that the other had, so of course they **attached themselves together more that what is considered to be the norm**, and it is because of this that Light is so fucking loopy and martyr-esque right now. He thought Lawli was **dead,** after all, and his **twisted sense of justice was shaped to a great extent by the events of his early life and the "murder" of his best friend**. That kinda thing really fucks with a guy, y'know?

Hope that clears some things up! Sorry for the long A/N!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_In One Ear, Out the Other_

* * *

It was quiet in the operations room. When asked about Raito's whereabouts, L had simply replied that Raito was indisposed. Everyone was fairly happy with this answer, even if Chief Yagami looked as if he wanted to question him further, and the team generally left L alone. L was studiously ignoring them, concentrating fully on the computer in front of him.

He had lost his nerve upon seeing the chief walk through the doors. It wasn't like him to lose his nerve.

He was more _unsettled_ than previously theorized.

L's ears picked up on the soft murmurings of Mogi, discussing a file that Aizawa was showing him. Matsuda hummed softly, which was slightly annoying, but tolerable. Yagami-san was quiet, but L could hear the sound of his fingers against the keyboard.

He sighed.

This wasn't supposed to be hard. It wouldn't have been hard months ago, but things had changed. He had been honest when he had told Raito that he considered him to be his first ever friend, but he had been fairly certain, no, positive that Raito and Kira were the same person. And yet, he had not stopped himself from becoming attached to Raito.

L knew the possibility that their relationship would end with either the death of Raito or the death of himself was great, but L had prepared himself in the event that he would have to see his friend executed or that he himself would die at the hand of his friend. He had even entertained fantasies of Raito coming to him for help, not wanting to continue his life as Kira.

But never in all of L's wild imaginings did he suspect that Light would go and pull a stunt like this.

L had profiled Raito a very long time ago - at the beginning of the case - and this was completely out of character for him. It was out of character for anyone who might be Kira.

So now L doubted whether Raito really was Kira, which was not good, because L never _truly_ doubted. He left room for alternate explanations and extenuating evidence, yes, but heve never doubted. He always knew, and now he didn't.

L wanted to tell the team what had transpired during the night, but he wasn't feeling up to dealing with what would more than likely be a very emotional, and perhaps even violent, confrontation between a disbelieving investigations team and himself.

He closed his eyes, sighing to himself once more. He had been doing that a lot this morning.

And L was feeling depressed - again.

He scowled, remembering the first days he had been handcuffed to Raito. He was feeling even more depressed than he had been then. What he really needed was some cheesecake. Maybe if he had Watari - oh. Watari was watching over Raito.

L growled. _How convenient._

A few heads looked up to see what had agitated the detective, but L refused to look their way. Thankfully, the team turned back to their work.

Fine. So he couldn't have Watari bring him some cheesecake. That didn't mean he couldn't have _somebody else_ bring him cheesecake.

"Matsuda-san!" barked L.

"Uh, yes?" blinked Matsuda. It wasn't customary for L to sound so cross. In fact, it wasn't customary for L to sound anything other than monotonous.

"Fetch me a slice of cheesecake, would you?" demanded L.

Matsuda seemed slightly disappointed, but complied nonetheless. However, as Matsuda bumbled towards L with his cake, he tripped, the cake plate flying from his hands, and unceremoniously landing face down on the floor.

L's eye twitched.

"Oh! Ryuuzaki! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to -"

L held his hand up, ceasing the inane wailings of the detective.

"Not another word, Matsuda-san. I feel as if I might shoot something, and you are looking more and more like an appealing target," said L through gritted teeth.

Matsuda opened his mouth as if to reply, but wisely thought better of it.

L raised himself from his seat, his shoulders hunched and hands buried deep within his pockets.

"Ryuuzaki? Is everything alright?" asked Yagami-san cautiously.

L shook his head. "No."

And he walked out, intent on consuming a whole cheesecake before setting foot back into the operations room.

* * *

"_I am not scared of confrontation."_

"_Yes, you are."_

"_No, I'm not."_

"_Yes, you are."_

"_No, I'm not."_

"_Okay, there are exceptions to when you aren't, but for the most part, you'd rather avoid people altogether."_

_Lawli growled, irritated at his friend._

"_You know I'm right. Light 4,145 to Lawli 4,146."_

"_Well, it's about time you caught up to me. I was disappointed that you were falling so behind. It didn't feel like much of a competition anymore," goaded L, who was feeling particularly uncharitable._

_Unfortunately for L, his best friend knew him well enough that his tactic would not work._

"_You are terrified of confronting him," stated Light._

"_I am _not_ terrified!" whispered L furiously._

"_Yes, Lawli, you are. If you weren't, then you'd be up there right now demanding to have your score changed," pointed out Light._

_L had the overwhelming urge to kick Light in the head. He made a good attempt to do so when the teacher's back was turned, but Light was shorter and faster than Lawli, and ducked before his foot could slam into Light's head. It didn't help that L and Light were currently sitting in school desks._

"_Temper, temper," sang Light._

"_Shut up, Light! I am not bloody afraid! And I'll prove it, you stodgy prick!"_

"_Sure, sure," agreed Light. He gave the impression that he was just humoring L. _

_This only served to piss L off more._

_The orphanage had it's own classrooms for the children, and Light had been smart enough to be advanced into L's class, even though there was a significant age difference. Truthfully, they were both intelligent enough to advance further, but both were happy with the easy pace of primary school. _

_However, when the science test had been returned, L had discovered, to his dismay, that his score was less than perfect. Apparently, the teacher had made a mistake in grading, because L_ just knew _that everything on his test paper was perfectly correct._

_So this in turn had led to the heated, though whispered, debate between Lawli and Light in the back of the classroom as the teacher continued with the lesson._

_When it was time to leave, L's jaw grew taut with rigid determination. He was not a coward, and he was definitely not deserving of a less than perfect test score when he knew the answers were correct. _

_With sure, confident steps, he made his way up to his teacher's desk, test gripped tightly in one hand, book bag in the other._

"_Mr. Moore?" questioned L._

_Mr. Moore smiled genially. He was an old man with crooked teeth._

"_Did you have a question, Miss Layerlett?"_

_Mr. Moore was also half-blind and senile. L felt his eye twitch, but didn't try to correct his teacher. It never worked._

_L coughed, pulling slightly on his shirt collar. It seemed slightly warmer in the classroom then it had a few minutes ago. _

"_Erm, sir, I'm concerned about my grade on the test we took last Friday. I was wondering on which question I was docked three points for? I am fairly certain that I have answered all the questions correctly."_

_Mr. Moore hummed under his breathe, taking the proferred test paper with gnarled, liver-spotted hands. He adjusted his large coke bottle glasses, squinting extra hard at the paper._

_L glanced towards the door. Light was watching, a smirk firmly in place. L almost growled at him, but instead settled on throwing him a nasty glare._

_Mr. Moore cleared his throat. "Uh, oh yes, I see the problem. Miss Layerlett, I docked you three points for not putting your correct name down."_

_L's jaw dropped. He thought he might have heard a loud snort from the classroom door, but it was quickly smothered._

"What_?" asked Lawli incredulously._

"_Surely you can't expect full credit when you sign your test 'L Lawliet,' can you?" asked Mr. Moore, though not unkindly._

_Lawli glanced over to Raito in disbelief, wondering what his friend thought of this. His eyes narrowed. Raito was faced away from him, his shoulder shaking madly._

"_I understand, sir. Thank you for your time," L gritted out, his eyes still glued at the shaking figure of his supposed best friend._

_L stomped from the classroom, grabbing on to Light's arm and jerking him after. Once they had made it safely down the hall, Light broke out into uproarious laughter._

_Lawli gave a savage growl and let a kick fly at Light's head._

_This time, he didn't miss._

* * *

Light must have fallen asleep, but it was a pleasant sleep. It was full of warmth and laughter, and . . . cookies? He didn't even like cookies. What a strange dream. He was saddened to awaken from it, but it didn't matter. Not when he saw who had woken him.

"Hey Ryuuzaki. Did you get everything set up? When are you taking me away?" he asked lightly, his voice scratched and soft.

L regarded him with wide eyes, his dilated pupils piercing through him, trying to dissect him. Any other time, Light might have been put off, but not any more. He was used to such looks. He had borne the brunt of them many times before - both long ago and now. He only smiled.

This obviously either encouraged the detective to speak, or annoyed him enough to give in and answer. Light assumed it was the later.

"After spending time pondering over Raito-kun's rather peculiar behavior, I have narrowed down my tentative conclusions to either Raito-kun is completely out of his mind, possibly being controlled by the first Kira, or is being truthful for some reason unknown to me. With the way Raito-kun is smiling, and if I was a betting man, I'd guess that Raito-kun has completely lost his mind, and with the way your mood has been changing from one extreme to the next lately, I would guess that you are also bi-polar."

Light blinked and then laughed hoarsely, delighted.

Wrong. Light 7,472 to Lawli 7,470, but really. Maybe Light should give up that game. It wasn't fair if L didn't know he was playing.

L had no idea, and he seemed to glean as much from Light' reaction.

"I'm off, aren't I? Or is this further evidence attesting to your lack of sanity?" L asked, his head quirked as he regarded the amused man still tied and on the floor.

"Yes, you are off," Light agreed, still grinning. But his grin faded when he realized something.

"You're going to drag this out, aren't you? You haven't even alerted the team. You've probably fed them some lame excuse for our disappearance, and you're planning on using your borrowed time to figure out why I confessed and how I know your name," Light concluded morosely.

L seemed slightly surprised at how easily Light had guessed the situation.

"Yes, well, something like that," he answered, continuing to scrutinize Light for unspoken answers.

Light sighed. He wanted to just tell Lawli who he was, but he couldn't, especially if Lawli didn't know who he truly was already. What would Lawli think of him? What would he think of his friend who had fallen so far? Lawli must have thought something had happened to him. Otherwise, he would know who was tied up in front of him, or he would have found Light a long time ago.

Wouldn't he?

It didn't matter.

Light didn't want to leave Lawli with the knowledge that the man who had once been his best friend and family was a mass murderer who had at one time been bent on Lawli's destruction.

He refused to do that to Lawli.

"I won't tell you why I confessed. My reasons are my own, but please know that I tell the truth. As for how I know your name, let me assure you that I am the only one who knows, and hopefully the knowlege will die with me as well. So, please, just save us both the trouble and have me executed already," whispered Light. His vocal chords twinged in pain from his earlier bout of laughing.

L made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, and Light would have smacked himself if he had been physically able to. Of course that wasn't going to get Lawli off his back anytime soon! If anything, he'd probably just made his friend that much more determined to figure Light out.

If Lawli was frustrated and angry enough, nothing would stop him from doing or finding out what he wanted. He was positively dogged about it.

Light breathed in deeply before letting it out slowly.

He was going to be here awhile, wasn't he? That was fine. Not even Lawli could hold him here forever. It was just another game between them, one of many many games that they had played over the years. But who would be the first to crack? Would Light tell Lawli or would Lawli send him to the executioner's block first?

Light was tired of the games. He only wanted to be left in peace. Games had no place in his life anymore. Not when he knew what he wanted, and he wanted to leave this earth, especially before he lost control over the monster inside of him.

"If that is your wish, Raito-kun, then I will wait, but I have my doubts that you are who you claim to be," said L.

Light was shocked. After everything L had said these past few months? "You don't believe me?!"

L shook his head.

"But I _am_ Kira!"

"The percentage in favor of you being Kira has dropped significantly since the previous evening," replied L evenly.

"That's . . .that's . . . total bullshit! I've never heard such nonsense in my life! When someone confesses to being a mass murderer, especially someone you've been highly suspicious of since the beginning, it doesn't make the likely hood that they aren't what the confess to be _drop significantly_! It means you've got a confession from a mass murderer! Have you lost your mind?!" yelled Raito, his voice cracking pitifully.

"No, but I still have my doubts about your mind's location."

"How could my confession possibly deter you in arresting me, Ryuuzaki?" exclaimed Light, struggling against his bonds. He had the sudden urge to choke L.

"Because if you were Kira the last thing you'd ever do is confess to me."

Light paused in his struggles for freedom and just stared at L in wonder.

Well. He should have been confessing all along if he wanted to avoid suspicion, shouldn't he?

Light had never thought to question who was the smarter one in their relationship, believing them to be equals. But now . . . now Light knew the truth of the matter.

Lawli was an idiot.

And even more unfortunate - Lawli was a _smart_ idiot.

At this rate, Light might as well be thinking about which classes he wanted to take in the spring semester instead of his impending execution.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Haha! I freaking loved this chapter! The flashback was my favorite!! Woooot!

And poor Light! He just can't get a break! What with that mean ol' Lawli ruining his noble self-sacrificing plans! I'd be pissed, personally. I hate it when you tell someone the truth and it goes in one ear and out the other! Hence, the title. Hah!

Anyways, I can't wait to hear from everybody! So **SAY SOMETHING**!


	5. Some Lies Run Deep

**A/N: **Hello again my wonderful readers!

Oh, and if anyone's up for a quick laugh, check out my new little side project called **Kinky Handcuffs**.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Some Lies Run Deep_

* * *

_It was late. The rest of the task force had left hours ago, and even though Ryuuzaki had finally taken the handcuffs off, Light stayed. Ryuuzaki was questioning Rem once again, and Light was hesitant to leave the detective and the shinigami alone together. He knew Rem wouldn't say anything to jeopardize his secret, but he also knew that Ryuuzaki was a master detective. He didn't want to take any chances, not with victory so close at hand._

_"So the only way for another human besides the owner of the Death Note to see your kind is if that human comes in contact with the notebook?" questioned Ryuuzaki._

_"That is correct," answered Rem._

_"Tell me, do shinigami like apples?"_

_Light felt his mouth curl in the slightest of smirks._

_"Not necessarily. Our internal organs have evolved past the point where our bodies require nourishment," replied Rem._

_Ryuuzaki nodded, once again studying the notebook held between his thumb and forefinger._

_"But is it physically possible for a shinigami to consume food of the human world?"_

_Rem hesitated. "I have not indulged myself, but I cannot speak for others of my kind."_

_Ryuuzaki quirked his head. "But is it possible?"_

_"I do not know."_

_Ryuuzaki sighed, setting the notebook back down. He took a sip of his tea, silently regarding the shinigami across from him. He glanced over to where Light was diligently working at his computer._

_"Raito-kun, you are free to return to your home. The rules of the Death Note have freed you from suspicion, and I do not require your assistance this late in the evening," said Ryuuzaki._

_Light shrugged. "I'm not tired yet, and besides, I'm still cross-referencing all of the names written in the notebook with what we have on file."_

_"There are victims of Kira who do not have their name written down in this notebook," remarked Ryuuzaki._

_"Yes, I've noticed that," answered Light, his eyes never leaving the computer._

_"The possibility of there being a second notebook is quite high," said Ryuuzaki._

_"I came to the same conclusion as well. That is why I'm cross-referencing the known names of criminals killed by Kira and those written in the notebook. We need to know how many deaths this second notebook is responsible for," said Light._

_"We'll have to concentrate our efforts in locating the second notebook now," replied the detective._

_Light nodded. "And we'll have to be on the lookout for any more deaths."_

_"Yes, I don't believe Higuchi is the first Kira, or even the second for that matter. There might be more than two notebooks out there," remarked Ryuuzaki, idly flicking a container of cream off the coffee table, his gaze never wavering from Light's form._

_Light regarded him silently, not letting the amusement he felt show on his face. The fake rules he had Ryuk write in the Death Note had cleared him and Misa of suspicion. Ryuuzaki could think he was Kira all he wanted, but he wouldn't be able to do a thing without evidence. His plan was falling into place perfectly. Soon the detective would be dead._

_"You're probably right about that," Light finally said._

_Ryuuzaki shifted, bringing his thumb to his mouth. "Rem, can there be multiple notebooks in the human world at one time?"_

_Rem took a moment to answer. "I do not see a reason why there could not be."_

_Ryuuzaki hummed in agreement, opening a bag of panda shaped cookies. A few moments of silence followed as Ryuuzaki crunched through his snack._

_"Do shinigami ever develop a close relationship to those who own their Death Note? Or are shinigami immune to attachment?"_

_Light stiffened. He regarded Ryuuzaki and Rem from the corner of his eye._

_"If such an attachment was to form between a shinigami and a human, the life of the shinigami would be in danger. If the human's life is threatened and the shinigami interferes in anyway that would lengthen a human's lifespan, then the shinigami will die."_

_"Interesting," replied Ryuuzaki. He rolled a panda cookie between his fingers._

_Light relaxed. There was nothing in what Rem had said that would lead Ryuuzaki to suspect that Rem herself cared for a human deeply._

_"And is that the only way for a shinigami to die?" asked Ryuuzaki, biting off the head of a panda cracker._

_"No," answerer Rem, but did not elaborate. Ryuuzaki glanced up from his bag of cookies._

_"Is it possible for a human to kill you," he asked calmly._

_Rem scowled. "No. The only other way for a shinigami to die is if a shinigami neglects to write the names of humans in their notebook."_

_"Why is that?" questioned Ryuuzaki._

_"However much longer the human's natural lifespan is upon their death, whether it be months or decades, is added to the lifespan of the shinigami. If a shinigami does not write the names of humans in their notebook, the shinigami will eventual die at the end of their lifespan."_

_"Hmm, how very interesting," replied Ryuuzaki._

_Light studied the detective from the corner of his eye. There wasn't anything that the detective could glean from Rem's answers. Perhaps Ryuuzaki was merely curious about the death god._

_"Are the shinigami a social bunch?" asked Ryuuzaki. Light noticed the detective had begun building a tower out of small cream containers._

_"It depends on the individual. I, myself, am not. I prefer to stay away from the other shinigami," said Rem._

_"I imagine it would get lonely, all by yourself," remarked Ryuuzaki lightly, placing another cream on his tower._

_Rem didn't say anything in response. Light turned slightly in his seat. What was the man playing at? Why would he care if a death god was lonely? Where were these questions leading to, and could it possible incriminate Light or Misa in some way?_

_"Personally, I would be bored without another person to conversate with," continued Ryuuzaki._

_Light winced. Who the hell would say - he hated it when someone made up - ugh . . . _conversate_?_

_"Ryuuzaki,_ 'conversate'_ is not a word," Light said through gritted teeth. He may have been angrier than what the situation called for, but he absolutely despised that particular pseudo-word. Of course, he hadn't heard someone use it in years, but still . . ._

_The detective merely quirked his head. "Yes, I am aware of that Light-kun. However, I find that language is constantly changing. I would be doing mankind a disservice if I did not endeavor to help the evolution of modern language by contributing new and interesting words."_

_Light froze, the detective's words slowly penetrating his mind._

_Ryuuzaki's answer had struck a chord within him. Those words . . . that argument . . . it seemed so familiar. He was suddenly hit with a violent sense of déjà vu. It was almost as if they had had this conversation before, but no, there was only . . . _one_ person . . . that he could remember that would say something- that _had_ said something- . . . . . . ._

_Light turned in his chair to stare at the curious detective sitting on the other side of the room._

_No . . . it couldn't be._

_Light paused, his mind coming to a screeching halt as he stared at Ryuuzaki, before lurching from his chair, staring at the detective in abject horror. It couldn't be!_ It couldn't possibly be!

_Ryuuzaki, for his part, leaned back from Light's maddened stare, eyes widening slightly._

_"Are you not a fan of evolution, Raito-kun?" asked the detective innocently._

_Light stumbled to the detective, who in turn pulled his knees tighter against his chest, tensing. Light stopped inches away from Ryuuzaki, staring down at the man sitting on the couch with wide, almost crazed, eyes._

_It was the detective's guarded eyes that he took in first. At first glance, most anyone would have trouble distinguishing their true color. Ryuuzaki's eyes seemed black, and Light had originally assumed they were, but if you looked closely enough, you could see the dark grey that lined the abnormally large pupils._

_The hair was another give away. Black, messy, naturally windswept. Not many people had hair with so much character._

_And then it was the little things. The love of sweets. Constructing tiny towers out of sugar cubs, marshmallows, even cream containers. The way he chicken pecked the keyboard with two fingers. The way his head quirked slightly whenever he was curious. He hated shoes. He was blunt almost to the point of being rude. He was paler, the rings under his eyes were darker, he was taller and more hunched than ever before, but despite all this, he was _exactly_ the same._

_And Light hadn't realized any of it until the very moment that the detective had uttered the detested word that had once upon a time managed to get Light into his fair share of arguments - conversate - that blasted three syllable noise masquerading as the favored imaginary word of . . ._

_But he was supposed to be dead._ Why wasn't he dead?

_"Is there a reason you are staring at me, Raito-kun? I must admit, your sudden fascination with my person is slightly unsettling," said Ryuuzaki, his eyes wary._

_He didn't answer, and despite Ryuuzaki's question, Light continued to stare. What could he say? What_ the fuck_ could he even say? So many questions ran through his head, but the only thing he could even manage to push past his lips was . . . ._

_"L _Lawliet_?"_

* * *

Light was once again by himself, brooding over the predicament that L had left him in.

After the death of Higuchi and the introduction of the Death Note into the Kira investigation, L had dedicated a lengthy amount of time to both the study of the Death Note and the questioning of the shinigami Rem.

Light was thankful that he had yet to contact Misa about digging up the other notebook. If he already had Misa writing down the names of criminals again, then it would have inevitably led Rem to writing L's real name down in her notebook to protect Misa.

Light shivered. Yes, it had been very, _very_ close.

But now . . . .

Twenty three days.

That was how far in the future the Death Note could control its victims, and according to the detective, L was now 65% sure that Light was not the first Kira. L also theorized that Light had somehow been controlled by the original Kira from the beginning, which had led L to believe that Light was the real Kira, when in fact he had only been a proxy.

Of course, L being L, he had to go into great detail on how _exactly_ Light, and for that matter Misa Amane, was just one of the serial killer's puppets whose sole purpose was to take the fall for being Kira.

So, in lieu of taking Light's confession at face value, L decided that the safest option was to wait until the twenty three days had passed.

If Light wasn't dead sometime within the next twenty three days at the hand of Kira, then L would further investigate the possibilities of Light truly being Kira. His other theories ranged from Light still being under the control of Kira through means L was unfamiliar with, to, and Light had to stifle a laugh borne out of frustration with this one, that Light was a follower of Kira and was sacrificing himself on his own accord for his idol.

And if Light _was_ dead within twenty three days, then L assured him that the detective would be very upset at losing his friend and would stop it nothing to catch Kira in order to avenge his death.

Everything L said made perfect, logical sense. It was because of this that Light acquired an overwhelming urge to slam his head against a wall.

Twenty three days. That was all that stood between Light and death, or if L still refused to believe him, then further confinement and investigation. Of course, Light knew the detective wouldn't make a move until he had all the answers he was looking for, so it could be longer.

He sighed. There was really no use for it. Light would have to tell the detective the whole story starting with him finding the notebook. Hopefully if Light told L the location of the second notebook, then L would forego his other theories and skip the twenty three day wait, but then again, this was Lawli.

Wait! Rem! Of course, why didn't he think of it? He could have Rem prove to L that what he said was true. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Surely the detective would be forced to act if the shinigami confirmed that Light was indeed Kira. Now all he had to do was get the detective and the death god in the room with him, possibly even the rest of the task force too.

With this in mind, Light smiled. Soon he wouldn't be such a liability to humanity anymore.

. . . and Lawli would be safe.

* * *

"I have my suspicions, after all, he knows _his_ real name, but the boy has not said a word as to how."

"Continue to keep the situation under control, my friend. _He_ must not know Yagami's true identity."

"But what if the boy was to -"

"Then I would expect you to take care of it. If the boy has made the connection, then he must be silenced at all costs. I will not see all of our hard work be for naught."

"Yes, I understand, but -"

"Don't tell me you're becoming soft."

A pause. The figure shifted the phone.

"Of course not."

"Good, see that you don't. Keep me informed. You know what to do if things start to deviate from the plan."

"I do."

"Yes, and I will contact you in three days. This situation might be too far gone already. It would be wise of you to start planning for the boy's demise immediately."

"I understand."

"See that you do."

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Yes, there aren't any Lawli and Light flashbacks in this one, unfortunately, but we had a pesky plot bunny lay an egg at the end, didn't we! Yippiee! I hope everyone enjoy how Light found out Ryuuzaki was Lawli! I mentioned in earlier flashbacks of Light and Lawli of Lawli's habit of making up words to bug Light.

**I HAVE A SHOUT OUT!**

I just recently read an up and coming new fic called **Hacker of the Past by frnight**. I am absolutely stunned by the quality of this writer's work! I seriously haven't run across a story this good in a long time! It's an AU, with Light being a criminal hacker screwing with the world's governments and L on the case trying to catch him. Very very awesome, and it never gets boring for even a second. Please go check it out if you're in the mood for a good story! **It's saved under my favorite stories!**

Okay you guys, y'all know the drill, **SAY SOMETHING**!


	6. I Wish You Wouldn't Go

**A/N: **Ohaithurr!!! Wow, I am so excited about this chapter! The plot is finally starting to pick up! YESSSH!!!

**Thank you all, once again, for you're awesome reviews! Please, keep them coming!**

Okay, for this chapter, we _finally_ get an insight into what happened to split our two love muffins up when they were wittle kids!! Just a hint, but such an ooey gooey lovely hint! Gah! I love it!

And we see the further development of NOW!LightandL's relationship. Gah, is it so terrible to love your own creation? (_DISCLAIMER! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING BUT THE PLOT AND RANDOM ASS OC'S ONLY USED TO ADVACE SAID PLOT!!!_) Didn't want that creation comment to be taken the wrong way, after all! Lulz!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_I Wish You Wouldn't Go_

* * *

"What do you mean she's disappeared?" exclaimed Light.

L shrugged. "I mean that I am uncertain as to the death god's location. I have not seen her since the night I placed you back into confinement."

"But that's been . . . wait, how long has that been?"

"We are on the fourth day of your confinement," confirmed L, drawing his knees up.

"Seems like it's been longer," remarked Light, almost ruefully.

"At least Raito-kun is not immobile and on the floor anymore."

"Yes, but were the handcuffs completely necessary?" asked Light, holding up his tightly bound hands.

"Of course. I cannot have you getting a hold of a pen. The shinigami once said that it was wholly possible to kill using only a piece of the notebook. It is very possible that Raito-kun has a piece of the notebook hidden somewhere on his person."

"What?! That's absurd! You've searched me already, and I didn't have anything on me!" exclaimed Light.

"Well, I have not had Watari perform a full body cavity search on Raito-kun," said L, biting thoughtfully on his thumb and staring at Light with wide eyes.

"Wh-What?!" yelled Light, his face flushing without permission.

Light barely caught the minute upturn of the detectives lips, and glared at the quiet detective sitting in front of him. The bastard obviously enjoyed toying with him.

"Would you rather Watari give you a full body cavity search, Raito-kun? Perhaps we would take the handcuffs off providing you do not have any hidden pieces of the Death Note shoved into any unexpected orifices," continued L casually.

Try as he might, Light couldn't stop his jaw from slackening. He didn't know whether to be insulted by the detective finding such amusement at his expense or laugh along with him.

He settled on a surprised chuckle. Lawli blinked and quirked his head. This was obviously not an expected reaction.

"Who the hell said you should be a detective? I think you missed your true calling as a stand up comedian," said Light.

His comment elicited another small smile from L.

"Now Raito-kun is just being facetious."

Light just shrugged, sharing a smile with the detective.

"Well, at least you did a good job of distracting me from my earlier line of questioning," commented Light.

L quirked his head. "I was unaware that the subject was still open. You asked where the death god was, and I said I was unsure. Why did you even want to know, Raito-kun?"

Light sighed. "I thought if you could bring her down here, then she could tell you that I really am Kira."

"Was that Raito-kun's plan?" asked L thoughtfully. It seemed more like a rhetorical question, but Light answered anyway.

"Yes, it was. I was going to tell you the whole story about how I found the Death Note and everything that happened afterwards. Then, coupled with Rem's confirmation, I was hoping to see the inside of a court room by tomorrow morning."

"I wonder why Raito-kun is so eager to meet death? Raito-kun must know that even if he does convince me that he is Kira, I will not arrest Raito-kun until I have found out how he knows my name," said L.

Light leaned back, thudding his head against the wall. "That's the one thing I won't tell you, Ryuuzaki."

"I guess Raito-kun will be here for awhile then," said L, his eyes roving over Light, trying to gauge his reaction.

For his part, Light only closed his eyes. Why did Lawli have to make it so goddamned difficult?

"Yes, I suppose I will be here awhile," agreed Light, his eyes still closed.

"I certainly hope so, Raito-kun," replied the detective softly.

This caused Light's eyes to fly open in confusion. He stared at the hunched figure, who's eyes were just as guarded as Light's.

"Why would you hope for something like that, Ryuuzaki? Wouldn't you be happy to have this case closed?" asked Light, drawing out the words in his confusion.

L shrugged. "I meant it when I said that Raito-kun was my first ever friend. I do not want to lose him to Kira, whether he is being controlled by Kira or if they are the same person. I would be very unhappy either way."

Sudden, unexpected emotion choked Light, and he had to close his eyes once more. He couldn't even look at the detective, not after he said something like that. He was Lawli's first ever friend? Was he lying? Didn't he remember the young boy who lived with him in a London orphanage for all those years? Was Light Layfield just a bad memory for the detective?

"Did I upset you Raito-kun?" asked L. His voice was hesitant and soft.

Light shook his head, clearing away the depressing thoughts and kept his eyes closed.

"No. I'm not upset."

He opened his eyes, coming to a decision. "You're my first ever friend too, Ryuuzaki. In fact, I'd have to say you're my best friend."

The grin that met his eyes was brilliant and achingly familiar. There was Lawli, shining through the detective.

"I am glad Raito-kun feels the same as I do," said L, his voice still quiet.

"Yeah," replied Light, studiously avoiding the L's gaze.

"Would Raito-kun like to play a game?" asked L suddenly.

Light's brow furrowed in confusion. "A game? Don't we already play enough of those?"

He was surprised to hear L give a sharp, quick laugh. "Yes, that's right Raito-kun, but I was thinking something along the lines of chess."

"Sure, I wouldn't mind a game, but do we even have a chess board? And how will I move the pieces? With my teeth?" asked Light, waving around his bound hands for emphasis.

"As amusing as I would find Raito-kun playing chess with his teeth, I was thinking of something more along the lines of mental chess," replied L.

"I repeat, don't we already play enough of that game, Ryuuzaki?" chuckled Light.

L smiled slightly in return. "Pawn to D-6"

"Hey, who said you could be first, anyway?" questioned Light.

"No one, now do you want to make your move, or is this game too far above Raito-kun's mental capabilities that he will not be able to play?" goaded L.

"Ha, you wish. Pawn to C-5"

* * *

"Has there been any change?"

"No, the boy is still in confinement, and _he_ has not found out anything he shouldn't"

"Good. I hope you have decided on an appropriate manner of which to dispose of the boy?"

"Yes, but it will take at least another ten days for everything to come together."

"That's too long."

"It's the best I can do. If I were to try something else, it could be easily linked back to us. My plan will insure our involvement remains a secret."

"Let's just hope that the boy continues to keep his mouth shut."

"From what I've seen, it looks like he will."

"Do we know for certain that this boy is the original Kira?"

"No, not for certain. However, it is a sound possibility."

"His death will serve a two-fold purpose then, if he is in fact the serial killer. Kira is a wild card. His introduction to the game has not been good for our plans."

"No, it has not."

"I expect for you to contact me if anything were to arise. Otherwise, I will contact you again in three days time."

* * *

_"So, let me get this straight, you told the teacher you wanted to be a _gynecologist_ when you grew up?" asked Lawli, incredulously._

_"Well, she wanted to know! I didn't ask her to give me detention! I was completely serious, but if all women are going to act like _that_ when I tell them my life's ambition, then I might as well just - just give up my dream now before someone else_ beats me down_!" exclaimed Light. He threw up his hands to accentuate his point._

_"I can almost taste the melodrama wafting off you," deadpanned Lawli._

_"Oh, shut up, Lawli!" yelled Light, throwing a punch at his friend's head._

_Lawli moved, avoiding the blow, and continued on as if Light had never struck out at him. It was, after all, a normal occurrence._

_"You and I both know that gynecology has never been a field that interests you, anyway," said Lawli._

_"So? I honestly had given it some thought -"_

_"Yeah, when you were _six_. That was four years ago," snorted Lawli._

_"- _AND_ I couldn't say that I really wanted to be an astrophysicist because _Walter_ said he wanted to be an _astronaut_! Walter! Big, fat ugly _Walter_! He wouldn't even fit in one of those suits! I can't be in the same field as that guy!"_

_"Still, you should have said something besides gynecology. A ten year old saying that probably wouldn't be taken as seriously as a twenty year old saying the same thing," Lawli pointed out._

_"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," muttered Light._

_"I thought so," Lawli hummed in agreement._

_They continued on to the dining hall. It was packed with children ranging from all ages, and very loud. The two boys settled down at their usual small table with their dinner, both grimacing._

_"Mystery Meat Monday strikes again," commented Lawli, poking his fork at the gravy coated slab of meat._

_"Yeah, no kidding. You'd think we'd be used to this by now," remarked Light._

_"At least I'll be having something delicious and identifiable tomorrow," said Lawli, a dazed look in his eyes._

_"Ugh. Don't rub it in," groaned Light._

_"Hey, you should be happy for your best friend! I haven't been off the orphanage grounds in forever! And you'll be going on this day trip soon enough," said Lawli around a mouthful of peach cobbler._

_"Yeah, I get to take it in two years! _Honestly_, it's not bloody fair!" grumbled Light, stabbing a carrot with more force than was strictly necessary._

_"Of course it's fair. Every year we take a day trip with our age group. You just don't go anywhere very exciting until you're twelve, and it's not my fault that you aren't twelve. Besides, you went on your day trip last week! Do you know how bored I was without you?" asked Lawli._

_"_We. Went. To. A. Petting. Zoo_!" growled Light, emphasizing each word._

_Lawli laughed. "Yeah, I know!"_

_Light aimed another punch at Lawli's head, but he ducked again._

_"Hold still so I can get you just one good time!" yelled Light._

_"Yeah, like that's going to happen!"_

_"Well, if you'd stop moving, it will!"_

_"BOYS!" shouted a voice, interrupting them._

_Recognizing the voice, the boys turned their attention to the imposing figure standing in front of their table. Mrs. Wallace was extraordinarily tall for a woman, and with the extra weight she carried, she reminded them of a giantess. But despite her imposing figure, she was kind and warm hearted._

_"Hi, Mrs. Wallace! How are you this lovely evening?" said Light, laying the charm on thick._

_Mrs. Wallace, who had known Light since he was just a toddler, simply raised an eyebrow, unaffected by the precocious ten year old._

_"I hate having to break up your squabbles. What were you fighting about this time?" she asked, exasperation coloring her words._

_Lawli shrugged. "Light's just jealous that I get to go on an awesome day trip tomorrow to the British Museum."_

_"I am not!" yelled Light, glaring at Lawli._

_"Now, L. It's not very nice to goad Light like that," warned Mrs. Wallace._

_Lawli sighed. "Of course, you are right Mrs. Wallace. I apologize, Light. I did not mean for my excitement to cause hard feelings between us. Truce?"_

_Lawli extended his hand, and Light could see that he was slightly smirking. That little bastard!_

_"That's okay, Lawli. No hard feelings," agreed Light, taking Lawli's hand._

_Light squeezed his hand tightly, and Lawli squeezed back just as tight, neither one taking their eyes off the other._

_Mrs. Wallace, although not the brightest of women around, knew the children well enough that she spotted the silent battle of wills taking place before her. She simply shook her head and walked away. Honestly, they never stopped, and she could never get them to either. So if they weren't doing any overt damage to themselves, she decided it was best to just leave them alone._

_Neither of the boys noticed when Mrs. Wallace walked away. They were too busy glaring at each other, but it was Lawli who broke contact first. After all, his strength had always been in his kicks. His hands were rather delicate, unlike Light's._

_"_Ha_. Light 7,470 to Lawli 7,470. We're tied once again!" grinned Light._

_Lawli rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we're tied again. Now come on, you've got to help me pick out what I should wear tomorrow. You are a fashionista, after all, and I wouldn't want King Tut to see me looking anything less than presentable tomorrow."_

_If Lawli was trying to distract Light from being jealous about the day trip to the museum, it wasn't working._

_"I love how you can both compliment me and rub in the fact that I don't get to go with you tomorrow in the same statement," remarked Light dryly._

_Light stood up with Lawli, both dumping their trays, and headed back to the boys dormitory. They took a roundabout route through one of the hallways that was specifically for the infants. Both wanted to avoid the direct route. More often than not, Walter was hanging around with his goons, and Light and Lawli didn't feel like fighting with the older boy today._

_"You should probably wear your white shirt tomorrow, and maybe your blue jeans. Yeah, that would look good. Nothing flashy, casual yet utilitarian," Light thought out loud to Lawli._

_"But I _hate_ white! You do realize how easily it stains, don't you? Chocolate hardly ever comes out without bleach! And with the funds the way they are, the orphanage can barely afford to employ the few teachers we have here, let alone _bleach_. Besides, I don't even _own_ a white shirt," argued Lawli._

_"Hey, you shouldn't have asked me for my opinion then. And you can borrow mine. Don't you want King Tut to think you're presentable?" asked Light._

_"Fine, I'll wear your stupid white shirt, but I hope you know that I am only doing this because I feel bad that you can't tag along. Otherwise, you'd never catch me dead wearing such an unfortunate article of clothing! Just you wait, Light Layfield, I'll come back stained from head to toe," threatened Lawli._

_Light huffed. "You better not ruin that shirt on purpose, Lawli. That would be a waste of a perfectly good shirt! And like you said, the orphanage doesn't have the funds to replace any of my shirts you ruin!"_

_"Which is precisely why I don't want to wear your white shirt!" yelled Lawli._

_"Then next time, don't ask me for my opinion!" Light yelled back._

_The next morning, Light was smugly satisfied to see Lawli leaving the dorm in his white shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. It was the first time he could ever remember the other boy wearing a white shirt. Lawli always stuck to black. He would have rolled over and wished his friend a good time on his trip, but he was tired, and he didn't really have to get up for another thirty minutes, so he let himself drift back to sleep, assured that he would be able to rub it in Lawli's face when he returned._

_Light wasn't aware that Lawli would die that day, otherwise he wouldn't have let him go._

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Ahhhh, another chapter done. Man I love writing! It's such a rewarding past time!

Soooo, we got a couple of unidentified people plotting to kill Light? Oh, what fun! And exactly how did little L Lawliet die 8 years ago? And why the hell is he alive and kicking now? Could he be . . . A ZOMBIE!!! D: Or maybe . . . . A VAMPIRE!!! D: Lol, most assuredly not, don't worry! But you'll have to stay tuned to find out all those pesky unanswered questions!

Okay, I want to hear from you all! How'd you like it, hmmmm? So, make my day and **SAY SOMETHING!**


	7. This Is How I Feel

**A/N: **Oh, wow people! Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I had more reviews than ever before on the last chapter! It really makes my day that people like my story!

Oookay, so you know how there was that chapter back o---- that a way that didn't have any lovely Light/Lawli flashbacks? Heh, well **here's a chapter that's completely flashback**, so _**no italics here**_! It would be kinda pointless.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_This Is How I Feel_

* * *

Light was feeling bored.

Actually, he was utterly, maddeningly bored. He looked at his watch. Ugh. It had only been an hour since Lawli left! Just one bloody hour! He shouldn't be bored to distraction after just one hour!

". . . to page 134, and take a look at problem number 12. Since I just explained how to work this kind of problem, I want you all to take a few minutes and try it on your own. Don't worry if you get stuck, I did just introduce this after all . . . ."

He looked at his watch again. Had it really only been thirty seconds since the last time he looked?! This class was killing him, and it was only his first class of the day! He had at least another ten hours before Lawli would get back tonight. It was always so boring without him! Light didn't really have a problem with the other kids in the orphanage, but he didn't particularly like them, and with his best and only friend away, Light was beyond bored. It irritated him to be so bored, so now he was bored and irritated.

He huffed, twirling a yellow pencil between his fingers as he glared at his desk.

"Light!"

He couldn't stop himself from starting at the sudden interruption of his thoughts.

"Erm, yes Mr. Scott?" he tried.

"Did you get the answer for number twelve?" asked the math teacher.

"Oh, uh, what page was that again?" asked Light, wincing a little. He didn't mean to space out in the middle of class, after all. It was embarrassing to be caught.

"134," supplied Mr. Scott patiently.

Light flipped to the correct page. He read through question, his mind calculating the answer quickly.

"2.43," answered Light, looking up at his teacher.

Mr. Scott gave him an incredulous look. He obviously hadn't thought that Light could come up with the correct answer after only looking at the problem for little more than a few seconds.

"Is the answer written in the book, Light?" demanded Mr. Scott suspiciously.

"No, sir," answered Light. He tried not to glare. He _wasn't_ a cheater.

Mr. Scott came over to his desk to scrutinize his old, raggedy text book. Granted, there was all sorts of things written and doodled on the pages from previous owners, but nothing on that page was the answer to number twelve. Mr. Scott seemed to come to the same conclusion, humming a little under his breath.

"What about number 13, Light?" he asked, gazing at Light with curiosity.

Light glanced at the next problem. "9.68."

Mr. Scott made a strangled noise of excitement. "How about this one?" he asked, pointing at question twenty-two.

Light stifled a sigh, but obliged all the same. "53.82"

"Well someone's been studying ahead!" complimented the math teacher while giving Light an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder.

Light tried to smile, really, he did, but it came out as more of a grimace than anything. Thankfully, Mr. Scott turned back to his lesson, but not before giving Light an unreadable look.

Light frowned a little at the strange look the math teacher had given him. It put him on edge, but he shook it off. He had more important things to think about, like boredom.

He was so bored.

* * *

Light was feeling lonely.

There was a storm raging outside.

Light winced as another roll of thunder shook the window pane. Mrs. Wallace had said it was the worst storm this part of England had seen in decades. Unfortunately for Light, the people who had gone on the field trip had to stay the night in London. It was too dangerous for the bus to make it back to the orphanage in this kind of weather.

This left Light in a very uncomfortable situation. For as long as he could remember, he had never slept alone. Of course, he shared a dorm room with seven other boys, so he wasn't exactly alone. Only three of the eight who shared their room were gone on the field trip - including Lawli - and that left Light with four other people in the room with him now. But Lawli wasn't one of them, and Light never slept without Lawli. He _couldn't_ sleep without Lawli.

He glanced forlornly at Lawli's side of the bed. It didn't feel right without him here.

A flash of lightning briefly lit the room followed directly with a boom of thunder. He was surprised that the other boys could sleep with all the racket. Light hugged a pillow to his chest. It smelled a bit like Lawli, and that comforted him. He was scared of thunderstorms, but Lawli had always been there to keep him safe.

And now he wasn't.

Light was almost, almost mad at himself for acting like such a big baby, but when another round of thunder shook the window pane violently, he gave up on such fruitless endeavors. He was terrified, and Lawli wasn't there, so he clutched the pillow tighter, burying his face into it and breathing in deeply.

He didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

Light was feeling tired.

He trudged down the stairs to the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. He decided that the sun was too bright when a particularly vicious ray of sunshine attacked his unsuspecting eyes from an open window. The storm had passed and left a wet and beautiful morning behind it. This just served to irritate Light, who had noticeable bags under his eyes. He couldn't even begin to guess how much sleep he had gotten last night. It wasn't much, that was for sure.

He threw himself down in his normal chair at the table that was just a little ways away from everyone else. He glared at the chair opposite him. If Lawli was here, he'd make him get Light some porridge because Light had decided that it was completely Lawli's fault that he hadn't gotten any sleep last night. Stupid Lawli.

Light wished he would show up already.

* * *

Light was feeling mad.

No, he was feeling furious! He was once again sitting in his math class, bored to tears, and without Lawli to keep him entertained, what was there to do? Pay attention? Pshh. Where was Lawli anyways? Why hadn't the bus arrived yet?

Mr. Scott kept shooting him strange looks throughout the class once again, but Light ignored him.

He was too busy being mad at Lawli.

* * *

Light was feeling worried.

It was lunch time, and Lawli wasn't back. He should have been back by now! Why wasn't he here yet?

He peeked his head into the dining hall, his eyes immediately zeroing in on their table. No, Lawli wasn't there. He glanced towards the lunch line. No, not there either. He went and checked the dorm room, then the bathroom, then the other bathroom, then the girl's bathroom (it had happened, one time), then the playroom, then common room, then the classroom that him and Lawli shared (they had history after lunch), and then he rechecked the dining hall just in case Lawli had shown up.

No Lawli.

Well, Light was comforted by the fact that he hadn't seen any of the other twelve year olds who had gone on the trip either. Guess that meant that the bus was late. Really, really late.

Maybe he should just go sit in the classroom. The bus would get here soon, and Lawli would meet up with him in history.

Yes, that sounded about right.

* * *

Light was feeling scared.

But as scared as he really was, he didn't want to admit it to himself, because if he admitted to being scared, then he'd have to acknowledge the reasons and doubts plaguing his mind that caused him to be scared. If he did that, he'd probably only get more scared.

So he told himself he wasn't scared, just nervous.

The bus had returned, and the ten kids that had gotten to go on the trip were back.

Except for one.

He had asked around. Hell, he had even threatened to punch one kid into next week, but no one would tell him where Lawli was. Everyone would just get wide eyed and closed mouth around him if he asked. Then they'd leave, shooting him looks the whole time they were speed walking away from him.

So this lead Light to visit Mrs. Wallace. She'd know what was going on, and hopefully she wouldn't try to run away from him for some reason.

Her office was on the first floor, just a hallway away from where the classrooms were. She always kept her door open, and when Lawli and he would drop by to visit her, she'd always have peppermints in her drawer for them. But he noticed immediately that something had to be wrong.

The door was closed.

The door was _never _closed.

Why was the door closed?!

Just as he was about to knock against the heavy oak door, it swung open to reveal the tear-stained face of Mrs. Wallace and two policemen. The policemen tipped there hats to him, before quietly informing Mrs. Wallace that they'd be in touch and then left the office.

"Mrs. Wallace? Is everything okay?" asked Light. Why was she crying?

"O-Oh, Light! Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" asked Mrs. Wallace as she hastily wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Well, yes, but I was wondering if you knew where Lawli was, because I can't find him anywhere, and as far as I know he didn't come back with everybody else. And nobody will tell me anything!" exclaimed Light, frustration lacing his words.

Mrs. Wallace gave a small sob, which she quickly smothered with her handkerchief, and refused to look at Light.

Light felt the bottom fall out of his stomach.

* * *

Light was feeling numb.

He was lying on his back in an empty bed, staring at the ceiling. It was . . . weird. He had never known anyone personally who had gone missing before. Sure, he had seen plenty of stuff about that sort of thing on the telly, but he had never thought it could happen him or anyone he loved.

Lawli was missing, had been missing since an hour into the museum tour. That means he had been missing for twenty-four hours, more than twenty-four hours now. He was a _missing persons_. Lawli _was missing_.

Mrs. Wallace had told him that the police would find Lawli, that everything was going to be okay, but Light didn't believe her. How could everything be okay? Lawli was missing, his best friend was missing.

And Light didn't know how to feel.

So he was numb.

* * *

Light felt as if he were drowning.

The police had found a body. Fished from the river Thames, the body had been identified as twelve year old L Lawliet, an orphan who had disappeared from a field trip to the British museum a little over a week ago. The police had called Mrs. Wallace herself in for the identification.

There were no clues as to how the boy had ended up in the Thames river, but it looked as if he had suffered before his death, if the bruised skin was anything to go by, but the final cause of death was ruled as drowning, and there was no suspects or witnesses or even bloody clues as to how it all happened.

And Light was _drowning._

Just like Lawli.

On the day that he had found out, Light had stayed in bed and under the covers. He didn't want the other boys to see his tears. He didn't want any consolation or empty words. He just wanted to be left alone. He sobbed into his pillow, and when his pillow had gotten too wet, he had used Lawli's pillow, which had just made him cry harder, because it still faintly smelled like Lawli.

But Lawli was dead.

And soon his scent would die too, and then Light would never be able to smell him again. It was silly, but Light wished the pillow would smell like him always. That way, he could hug it anytime he felt like he was drowning and pretend.

* * *

Light felt dead.

As dead as Lawli.

It had been one week since the small funeral held for his best friend, and Mrs. Wallace had suggested that it was time to clean out Lawli's stuff. Of course, Light refused for anyone else but him to do it. Lawli had been his best friend, after all, and it was only right that he should do it.

It was much harder than he thought it would be.

There was a small bedside table with two drawers that Light and Lawli had shared. Light was currently cleaning out Lawli's draw. He smiled bitterly as he pulled out old candy wrappers and a dirty fork that still had cake on it.

He paused, however, when he ran across an opened letter shoved into a sock that was practically brand new, because Lawli had never liked socks. It wouldn't really matter if Light read it, would it? Lawli was dead. He wasn't there to care if Light did or not.

As it turned out, the letter had been a compilation of test scores. When the orphans in their orphanage turned twelve, they were all tested to see where they stood education wise. Part of the test included an IQ test. Light had always wondered what his was. After all, he knew that him and Lawli were smart, but just not _how_ smart.

He pulled open the results for Lawli's IQ test and stared. That was . . . unbelievable. Amazing. Why hadn't Lawli showed him? The letter was post marked almost a month ago! How could his friend have kept something like this from him?

Light dropped the letter back into the drawer, and then got on his knees. He reached blindly under his bed until his hand hit a large, flat bin. He pulled it out, shuffling through the books that the bin contained until he found what he was looking for.

The Guinness Book of World Records.

He flipped through the pages, stopping at the bit about the man with the largest recorded IQ. Kim Ung-yong. Born 1962 in Korea. IQ score - 210.

Light stared. He picked up the letter again, his eyes narrowing on Lawli's test results.

IQ score - 214.

He shoved the bin back under his bed, along with the book. He angrily ripped the letter apart, and he was suddenly thankful that he had been given the day off school to clean up Lawli's things and that everyone was in class, because he didn't want anyone to see the tears streaking down his face nor hear the screaming sobs escape his lips.

That stupid _bloody_ idiot! Why hadn't Lawli _told_ him?! Had he been ashamed or something? Light didn't care if Lawli had a record breaking IQ! Well, he admitted to himself that he might have been a _bit_ jealous since a good part of their relationship was based on their friendly rivalry, but he would have been happy for his friend either way! He wanted to punch Lawli in the face for keeping something like that a secret. It hurt to think that Lawli hadn't trusted him, and if he was here right now . . .

But Lawli wasn't here.

Because Lawli was dead.

And with this sudden realization, Light was drowning again, just like Lawli, but instead of drowning in a dirty river, Light was drowning in the mess that Lawli had left behind.

And it hurt. Light wondered if what he felt could compare to how Lawli felt before he died. The police had said that Lawli had suffered, but at least the pain had ended. Light didn't think his would ever end.

* * *

Light didn't know how he felt.

He didn't know, because he honestly had trouble feeling much of anything these days, except an overwhelming urge to punish whoever was responsible for the death of his best friend.

It had been two months since Lawli had been found, and the police had given up on Lawli's case. After all, Lawli had just been some orphan. What good was an orphan? An orphan didn't even have a family, after all, so there wasn't any big push for the police to find out what happened, and so the case had been dropped.

But Lawli did have a family. _Light_ had been Lawli's family, and Light wanted to see Lawli's murderers brought to justice, no matter what.

* * *

Light was feeling frustrated.

It had been four months since Lawli had been found, and for the past two months, Light had been conducting his own investigation. Light made good use of the three computers available in the common room for the orphans, and he had gotten particularly efficient at sneaking out of his dorm room at night to use the computers. Light discovered that he had a natural talent for hacking, so it had been a cakewalk for him to hack into the police files.

He had scoured all of the files concerning his best friend, but he couldn't take more than a brief glance at the pictures. He hadn't been expecting it the first time. He had just been browsing through, looking for clues that the police might have missed, and a picture had popped up when he had clicked on the next file. He had stared in horror at the bloated body, wearing a white shirt even, for all of a second before violently throwing up into the waste bin luckily stationed next to the computer desk.

Now, he avoided those pictures all together if he could help it.

* * *

Light was feeling angry.

It was better than being sad. He hated being sad. He had been sad for the past six months. It just wasn't worth it anymore, so Light concentrated on being angry. He was angry that his best friend was dead. He was angry that the police had given up. He was angry that he himself had given up, because there just wasn't anything there for him to go on. The murderers had gotten away with killing Lawli, and Light was furious about it.

It didn't help that Mr. Scott had been bugging him a lot lately. He hadn't really noticed much of anything since Lawli had died, but Mr. Scott was the exception. Mr. Scott was annoying.

If the math teacher wasn't grilling him on complicated calculus problems that no one else in the class had to suffer through, then he was bugging Mrs. Wallace about having Light sit in early with the twelve year olds on their tests in the coming month, and then encouraging Light to agree.

Honestly, Light couldn't care less why Mr. Scott was so eager to see him take some stupid tests. He didn't care to know where he stood academically, or even what his IQ score was.

Light was finding that he didn't really care about a lot of things anymore.

* * *

Light was feeling anxious.

The news had spread throughout the orphanage like wildfire, and even though Light kept to himself and didn't talk to anyone anymore, it wasn't hard to hear the news.

There was a couple from Japan visiting. Apparently the story was that the woman couldn't bare anymore children, and they were in the market for a son. Why they were even looking at adopting children from overseas, Light didn't know, and frankly, he couldn't really bother himself to care.

Of course, when he heard from one of his dorm mates that the man was some big wig in the Japanese police force, his interest was grabbed. Someone with that kind of position in the police force of Tokyo had to be good at what he does. Maybe he could help Light track down Lawli's murderers.

It wouldn't hurt to ask.

* * *

Light was feeling hopeful.

Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami were nice people. They had visited the toddlers, the younger kids, and then finally had gotten around to seeing kids of Light's age group.

When the Yagami's had introduced themselves, Light had immediately spear headed the conversation, grilling the older man about his job, saying that it was his life's ambition to become a detective.

The Yagami's, on their part, were enamored with the polite, well spoken boy who was so curious about Mr. Yagami's job. It was obvious that the boy was intelligent. No ten year old could hold the level of conversation that Light was holding with the two adults for such a long time.

So the Yagami's had talked it over with Mrs. Wallace, and she agreed to let Light go to dinner with the Yagami's to get to know one another better. This was usually frowned upon, but it was obvious that Mrs. Wallace just wanted Light to be happy again. He hadn't been happy for so long, so she was bending the rules just for him.

The Yagami's took Light out to a nice dinner. Light helped them order as they weren't too well acquainted with English cuisine, and Light was surprised to find himself having a good time. For the first time in almost seven months, Lawli slipped quietly away from Light's thoughts, and Light didn't mention anything about an impromptu investigation to the Yagami's.

And the thought of asking for help fled his mind completely as the taxi carrying the Yagami's and Light stopped a few hundred yards away from his orphanage.

It was on fire.

* * *

Light was feeling sick.

It was the first time he had ever been on a plane before, and seeing the ground lift so suddenly had caused his gut to wrench.

"It's alright dear. Those little bags in front of you are there for a reason. If you feel queasy, just grab one," said Sachiko, patting his arm in a loving manner.

"Thank you, Mrs. Yagami," he replied shyly.

She laughed. "You are my son now, Light. You don't have to call me Mrs. Yagami. If you want to, you can call me 'Mom.' Of if you feel uncomfortable with that, then Sachiko is fine."

Light smiled. He hadn't ever had a mom before, let alone a dad or a sister that was waiting for them back in Japan.

"Sure thing, Mom," he whispered hesitantly. This made Sachiko beam with pride, and Soichiro ruffled Light's hair, before putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're alright, Light?" asked Soichiro.

Light nodded. "It's . . . hard. I mean, the fact that everyone is dead is almost unbelievable. I know that some people escaped, but no one that I knew personally. Everyone I knew died in the fire. I still don't think I can wrap my mind around it. So I guess it hasn't hit yet, but I think I'm okay for now."

"If you need to talk about it, then your mother and I are here for you," he said.

Light smiled and nodded before turning his gaze back out the window. Now that they were above the clouds, it wasn't so bad. He sighed, his thoughts turning back to the night that had changed everything.

The orphanage had caught on fire. Faulty wiring, it was said. After all, the orphanage had once been a sanitarium. It was old, crumbling in some places, and the government didn't regulate enough funds to go to the updating of orphanages, so it wasn't any wonder that the building had caught fire so easily and quickly.

And everyone Light had ever known died in the flames. Granted, there were quite a few survivors, but no one that Light had ever really spoke to. Mrs. Wallace was dead. Hell, even bloody Walter was dead.

It hadn't been that hard for the Yagami's to pick out a son after that. They assured Light that they didn't want to adopt him only because of the fire. They had taken a liking to him since their first meeting, and Light had agreed to go to Japan with the couple as their son. It wasn't that hard of a decision for him either. Anything to escape the memories of England, where only death and destruction seemed to lie, was good by him.

He gazed out at the clouds once more, letting his mind drift.

Was Lawli out there? Heaven had lots of fluffy clouds, didn't it? Or that was what he heard, at least. So maybe Lawli was out there right now, sitting on a cloud, possibly eating a large slice of cheesecake. There would be cheesecake in Lawli's heaven.

Light almost wanted to jump out the plane then. Maybe he would land on a cloud, and then maybe Lawli would be there, trying to kick him in the head, or wheedle sweets out of him, or glaring at him when he broke the tie, or laughing at his attempts at pranking Walter, or . . . maybe Lawli would just hug him. Light really missed those hugs. They always made him feel better. Yes, Light needed to jump out of the plane, land on a cloud, and get a hug from Lawli.

Maybe then, he could finally catch his breath, because he _still_ felt like he was drowning.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Wow. Damn. That actually took alot out of me. Ugh. I need to go read a good crack fic to make me feel better, lol.

Don't worry, next chapter will feature Light and a very alive Lawli (ohthanxgawd!).

**_SAY SOMETHING!_**


	8. Stripping Away the Outer Layers

**A/N: **Hello again everybody! It's feels so good to updating! I know I keep saying this, but I still can't believe how awesome all of you are to review! Seriously, you all make my day, and the kind words you leave for me spurr me on to writing the next chapter!

Oh ho ho! This chapter should clear some things up. AND HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS! I'm so excited about it! I had a super cool epiphany last night while working on this, and when you read the end, **just remember that when the idea came to me**, I was all like, "Oh, shit dude. That would be really, really fucked up . . . I LOVE IT!" Haha, yeah, you'll see what I mean with the last part.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Stripping Away the Outer Layers_

* * *

Light gazed forlornly at the door of his cell. He was being silly, but he wanted Lawli to come and talk with him. Ever since Light had decided to lay off on trying to expediate his execution, he had found himself treasuring the time he spent with his long lost friend.

Now that Light wasn't concentrating fully on his own demise, he had been spending the hours alone thinking about Lawli's death - or supposed death, as the case was. There were so many unanswered questions. How had Lawli gone from being a dead twelve year old orphan to the top _three_ detectives in the world? Obviously, the body found floating in the Thames hadn't been Lawli, but Mrs. Wallace had identified it as so. Why? Had she honestly thought that the body was Lawli's? She _had_ been a little senile . . .

Light tried to remember the picture he had seen briefly after hacking into the police files so long ago. He cursed himself for not studying it. He would have been able to tell that the body wasn't Lawli, but like everything else of his childhood, it was blurry and painful to even try to remember.

Light shook his head. It wasn't any use. After he landed in Japan with new parents and a new identity, he made a conscious attempt to forget anything and everything associated with England - including Lawli. It didn't work out so well at first. The nightmares that had haunted him for the six months prior to his adoption continued on for a few months longer. Gradually, everything started to fade until his memories of England were just a vague, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions, and flashes of people and places.

Light wasn't stupid. He knew what he had done, even if it was equally conscious as it was subconscious. The mind was a fascinating thing, and when a person suffered from such trauma as Light had with Lawli's violent and sudden death, the mind could sometimes take precautions to protect itself from the traumatic happenings.

In this case, it was Lawli's memory. Memory repression is a wonderful thing. A good example of this is when a child is consistently abused or sexually molested throughout childhood, but as an adult has no recollection whatsoever of the events. In his case, Light's memory had been repressed to the point that he had not even recognized the detective for who he truly was for months.

Light also wondered if perhaps the sanity-twisting effects of owning the Death Note had something to do with it. The darkness inside of him twinged at the thought, but otherwise behaved itself. It would make sense, after all. That, coupled with memory repression, was likely the reason Light had such a hard time figuring out just who he had been dealing with for so many months.

Now all he needed to do was figure out why Lawli didn't recognize him. Light let his mind drift to various explanations, the most prevalent of which was blunt head trauma and subsequent amnesia. That would explain everything, but Light couldn't be too sure. He wondered if there were any physical signs of amnesia besides the obvious memory loss.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Watari.

"Good afternoon, Yagami-san. Ryuuzaki sent me down to see what you would like for breakfast," said the old man.

Light smiled, his mind working furiously. It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?

"Would we happen to have any toast, perchance?" asked Light.

"Toast, Yagami-san? Is that all you wish for?" asked Watari.

Light nodded. "Just plain, if you don't mind."

"I shall return then," said Watari, turning to leave.

"Wait, Watari?" queried Light. It was now or never. Watari didn't usually come down to take his order. L usually did that, but today the detective was maddeningly absent.

"Yes, Yagami-san? Have you decided differently?" asked Watari, his face expectant.

"No, that's not it. I actually had a question for you, and please don't feel obliged to answer. I understand if you can't, but . . . Has, uh, Ryuuzaki ever suffered from amnesia?" asked Light, somewhat hesitant.

Watari seemed honestly confused at the question. "No, not that I'm aware of."

Light deflated. "Oh, okay. Thank you for answering."

Watari said nothing, only stared at Light a moment longer, before taking his leave.

Now Light was back to square one.

He _hated_ square one.

* * *

"Tell me how are things going, my friend."

"Everything is going as well as could be expected. The boy still refuses to talk."

"Good. Are you sure that you cannot implement this plan of yours any sooner? Not acting immediately leaves room for unforeseeable events to take place. I would feel better knowing that the problem will disappear without incident."

"No, if nothing has happened this whole week, then I don't believe waiting three more days will hurt. You do want to leave this messy situation behind without being implemented, don't you? It would ruin years of work and sacrifice if we were to slip now."

"No, you are right, my old friend. I am only feeling anxious. I want the boy dead and gone. I'll sleep better when this whole ordeal is over with."

"Yes, I imagine I will as well. The hours have been particularly grueling this past year."

"I can only imagine, especially when _he_ still refuses to sleep."

"Yes, that has been the cause of many late nights."

"I expect you to call me after your plan has come to fruition."

"Then expect my call in three days time."

* * *

Light looked up from where he had been staring at the tiled floor when he heard the door open. Fully expecting Watari, Light was surprised to see L's hunched figure carrying a plate of toast.

"I have never known Raito-kun to prefer plain toast before," remarked L, setting himself down on the floor.

Light followed suit, awkwardly sitting with his back against the wall.

"Plain toast is a comfort food," explained Light, "I don't suppose you'd mind doing the honors and sticking a piece in my mouth, would you?"

L replied by shoving a piece of toast into Light's unsuspecting mouth. Light didn't think L could move so fast, and almost choked at the violent intrusion. He glared balefully at the smirking detective while chewing the crumbling bread.

"Hmm, I should remember to do this when Raito-kun refuses to cease his inane chatter. If I had known how effective it was when we were chained together, I would have gotten more work done," remarked L.

"Oh, hardy har har, idiot," said Light through a mouthful of toast. Of course, it came out funny with all the toast, but nonetheless he was understood.

L quirked his head, as he was prone to do when something interested him or confused him.

"'Hardy har har?'" L queried.

Light's eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed hard. He knew that the detective would pick up on that little reaction like a damned blood hound, and he cursed himself. In the past, he had said the exact same sentence to Lawli practically every time Lawli had attempted to play a joke on him or was being an idiot, which admittedly was quite often. It was said enough that the phrase became significant between the two.

"Yes, and what's wrong with that? Do you have a problem with the colloquial?" asked Light, hoping he didn't sound to defensive.

"The phrase is not colloquial in Japan," replied L, his eyes widening as they bore into Light's own. Light could tell L was trying to puzzle him out.

"Japan isn't exactly an isolated nation anymore, Ryuuzaki," pointed out Light.

"Yes, of course Raito-kun."

The silence was somewhat stifling after that, but luckily L had shoved the last piece of toast into Light's mouth, so Light had a good excuse not to offer up any awkward attempts at conversation. However, the drawback was that the detective scrutinized Light as he ate, which made Light feel slightly uncomfortable.

"The taskforce should be here soon," said L absently.

Light, grateful for the subject change, swallowed. "I've been wondering, but how did they take it when you told them of my confession?"

"I have not informed them."

Light blinked, surprised. "I thought you had."

L shook his head minutely. "No, you were under the impression that I had, but I have not."

"Oh," and that was all Light could say, really.

"I was thinking of a new way to pass the time," said L, once again changing the subject.

"What's that?" asked Light, once again thankful for the change in conversation.

"Ever played mental poker?" asked L.

"With only two people?"

"Hmm, yes."

"No."

"Well, do you want to give it a try?"

Light smiled slightly, eager to accept the challenge held in L's eyes. "Why not?"

"Did I mention it would be mental strip poker? I find that to be so much more interesting than the regular variety," smirked L.

Light couldn't help himself. He blushed slightly, and prayed the other detective didn't pick up on that fact. Maybe the other man would take it as him turning red in anger. He sure as hell hoped so.

"I'm not much in the mood for strip poker, thanks," replied Light, as normally as he could.

L quirked his head. "Hmm, that's a pity. I'm sure Light would do well. He always does."

Light rolled his eyes, yet another habit that he had picked back up after being reunited with Lawli.

"I still don't know how you expect us to play it with only two people," he complained.

"Be patient, and you will see."

And yes, Light did see.

* * *

Watari studied the hunched figure of his charge. Something was obviously bothering him, and if Watari could hazard a guess, he would bet anything that the man's thoughts revolved around the boy in confinement.

"You have been spending quite a bit of time with Yagami-san lately. I would understand if it was merely for interrogation and observation, but it isn't. Are you sure that it's alright to be doing so?" questioned Watari.

L placed another sugar cube on his makeshift tower. He brought his thumb to his lip, rubbing it softly while scrutinizing his creation. Watari waited patiently for L's answer, all the while wondering why L continued spending time with the man who was almost certainly the serial killer the detective was after.

Watari understood that L had referred to Yagami-san as his 'first ever friend' on more than one occasion, but Watari had assumed that L was only saying that to catch the younger man off guard. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore, and he admitted to himself that he was slightly concerned about his charge.

L gently lowered another sugar cube onto his tower, his face as blank as always as the tower collapsed under the weight of the last sugar cube. L stared down at the mess of sugar cubes lying haphazardly on the table.

"Has the task force arrived yet?" asked L, blatantly ignoring Watari's earlier question.

Watari stifled a sigh. "Yes, they arrived quite some time ago."

"Please inform them that I will not be joining them today," said L. He was still staring at the tumbled sugar cubes.

"And if they inquire as to why?" prompted Watari.

"Hmm, tell them I am feeling under the weather," replied L indifferently.

Watari did sigh then, turning to leave the young detective in peace.

"Oh," Watari stopped short, pulling something from his coat pocket, "Here. His letter came."

L blinked, finally looking up at the older man. A small frown tugged at his lips, but he took the offered letter.

"Yes, thank you Watari," he muttered, looking down at the envelope in his hands.

Watari nodded before stepping out of the room.

L stared down at the letter. How long had it been since the last one? Time had flown by so quickly. With everything that had been happening lately, from Higuchi to shinigami to Raito's confession, he had all but forgotten that he was due a letter.

His mind ghosted over his earlier conversation with Raito. So strange. It was almost as if Raito - L stopped the thought there before his mind could draw any impossible conclusions.

His fingers pulled along the sealed edges, opening the envelope and pulling out the folded paper. There was no greeting - there never was - and that was because it was safer that way, just incase the letter should fall into the wrong hands. The content in and of itself was never too specific for that same reason, at least in the respect that places and last names were never mentioned, but L smiled slightly all the same as he began to read.

_I don't know why I haven't graduated yet. I'm dead bored with classes. Seriously, I should just skip to senior year and be done with it. I can't believe you've already gotten three of these damn degrees. I don't know where you find the time. Everything here is as good as can be expected. Elizabeth and I celebrated our six month anniversary last week. That's the longest I've ever been in a relationship before, you know? I don't know, but I think she'd be someone I'd want to spend the rest of my life with. Do you think it's too soon to pop the question? _

_So how about you? I know your job keeps you busy, but surely you've had a chance to meet someone special? You can't leave me hanging if you have. I've practically spilled my whole love life to you, but you remain tight-lipped on yours. _

_I know you can't mention anything about the Kira case, but I hope everything's going well on that front. Oh, and Mom says 'hi.' She's doing much better now. It's only been three months since Dad passed away, but she's working in the garden again, so that's good. Means she's healing and all. _

_I've got to wrap this letter up because Elizabeth will be here any moment. We're heading to the cinema tonight. I'm not so sure what she's dragging me to see this time. I hope it's nothing like the last film we went to. She used me as a bloody handkerchief practically the entire time._

_Give my best to Watari, and catch Kira already, would you?_

_Your unofficial little bro,_

_Light_

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Okay, were you expecting THAT? I sure as hell wasn't! WAAAH! This is sooo fucked up. I love it love it love it.

Thank you all so much for reading! Now **SAY SOMETHING**! (something awesome would be great!!!!!)


	9. Pontification is Dangerous

**A/N: **Oh, I'm so glad you people enjoyed the last chapter! I must say, I enjoyed writing it as well! Now, this one here is going to be fun too! Man oh man, I'm so excited! Hopefully none of you will see THIS one coming either (well, more like it's in the next chapter, but this one sets it up, lawl), and if you do, bravo!

I swear, I've never been this excited about writing a story before. I just can't keep myself away from the laptop for very long without immediately jumping into writing a new chapter! Not a bad deal for those who want to read the story though, huh?

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Pontification is Dangerous_

* * *

L stared uncomprehendingly at the computer screen before him, his mind once again returning to Raito, and more specifically to Raito's blushing face when L had mentioned a game of mental strip poker. For the life of him, L had no clue why he had said such a thing. It felt wholly natural to tease Raito in such a way, but it shouldn't have. He had said such things without even thinking, which was dangerous in and of itself. There was just something about Raito that made him drop his guard, and strangely enough more so since Raito's impromptu confession. That wasn't good.

L crushed a sugar cube between his fingers, annoyed. He was being absolutely ridiculous. He couldn't get any closer to Raito. It would only hurt both of them in the end, especially if Raito really did turn out to be Kira, as much as L despised even thinking about that more than probable conclusion.

But it Raito was Kira, the L could always . . .

Well. He would cross that bridge when he came to it - if he came to it.

Frankly, he didn't know anymore, especially since his earlier convictions were proven false again and again.

L couldn't help but wonder where the shinigami, Rem, had gone. His mind kept straying to the day when Raito said he would prove himself to be Kira by having the shinigami confirm it. If the shinigami did indeed confirm such a thing, then what would L do? He almost wished the shinigami would stay gone, but he was being selfish.

He didn't want to lose his friend.

Yes, that was the problem. Of course that was the problem, and L scoffed at his uncertainty and weakness when it came to acknowledging the problem and doing something about it. L had always openly admitted to being selfish and childish, and his actions in this situation continued time and time again to prove him so.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so difficult if Raito hadn't broken down the way he did when he was incarcerated once again. Maybe L would have happily sent his friend to execution if Raito's subsequent actions had actually made sense, or something else . . . no, not yet.

L shook the thought away, bringing his mind back to his previous ponderings.

Maybe he would be able to let Raito go if Raito wasn't trying to make it absolutely clear, without blatantly saying it, that Raito was trying to protect the detective from himself.

As much as L wanted to win the game played between the detective L and the mass murderer Kira, he didn't feel like it was that kind of game anymore. No, it was a different game altogether, and L wasn't exactly sure what the rules were or who the players might be, but he was fairly certain that he and Raito were, for once, on the same side. L would not give up on Raito. Not when there were so many unanswered questions. Not when Raito was willing to sacrifice his life for him. Not when Raito was the only thing truly making L feel alive.

L hadn't felt so alive since he was twelve years old.

With that thought, he glanced down at the letter sitting beside his laptop, letting his mind concentrate on something besides Raito, for once, just for the sake of his sanity.

It hurt to get those letters.

The man who wrote those letters was nothing like the boy who was once L's brother in all but blood. Their relationship, once it had started up again through letters after a year long hiatus, was strained and nothing like it used to be. Their contact was restricted solely to letters, anything other was dangerous for the both of them.

L didn't even know what Light looked like anymore. All he could picture when he thought of Light was the abnormally short and skinny ten year old brunet laughing at some prank or joke, but the image didn't fit with the man who wrote the letters. L knew that the words on the page were mechanical at best. Nothing of the Light he had known and loved were in those letters. There were no jokes, innuendos, or even angry rants. It read more like a diary entry than anything else. He wondered why they both even bothered anymore.

After L was allowed to contact his friend once again, it had come to a shock to learn that Light had been adopted and was living in America. L had insisted, as he had done consistently for the year he spent away from Light, to be able to contact his friend. After L threatened to runaway if he wasn't given a means to contact Light, he had finally been given an address.

L had expected everything from no reply to a bag full of feces, but he was surprised to find that Light had replied with a letter telling L all about his wonderful new adopted parents and life in his new home country of America. It had stricken him as odd, but he had been too relieved to have been forgiven to give it much thought then. But now, L wondered if that wasn't just Light's way of telling the detective how much it had hurt to have his friend abandon him.

Maybe L really had been responsible for the degradation of their relationship, but despite all that, as long as L continued to send a letters, he would get a response. L didn't have the heart not to send those letters, even if those sent in turn only served to hurt him.

He truly was alone in the world, wasn't he? If only Raito wasn't _Kira_ . . . If only he hadn't lost _Light_ . . . Or . . .

L sighed, stuffing the letter in his back pocket. His luck was bloody rotten. He rolled a sugar cube between his fingers, glaring at the computer screen.

With his mind so distracted, he wasn't getting any work done. This annoyed him. He crushed another sugar cube, taking small comfort in the grains falling from his fingertips.

"Ryuuzaki?"

L stiffened at the unexpected voice, but quickly relaxed when he realized who it was that had startled him.

"Yes, Watari?" asked L petulantly. He was embarrassed at being caught unawares and didn't feel up to the older man's company - or anyone's, really.

"This is the second day you haven't been to the investigation room to work with the task force, and Yagami is especially worried about his son."

L tried to repress his irritation, but really, it was futile.

"Tell them what you will. I will not deal with them today," said L shortly.

L heard Watari's tired sigh, but couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't want to deal with anyone today - the taskforce, Watari, Light, and Raito included. He just wanted to left alone with his thoughts, and maybe a large piece of strawberry cheesecake to help make him feel better.

"Very well," sighed Watari, and L was happy to hear the older man take his leave.

He looked up at the wall of monitors, focusing on one in which he had a very good view of Raito.

He looked almost peaceful in his sleep, and L tried to crush the swell of fond feelings for the younger boy. He couldn't let himself get too attached. He had been ignoring these feeling for so long, a little longer wouldn't hurt, at least until this whole ordeal was over - one way or another.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that he would be the one left behind.

* * *

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Is that why you contacted me? Good. This situation is causing me more than my fair share of undue stress."

"How do you suppose I feel? The boy is -"

"I don't care. Just put your asinine plan into motion. I'm ready for this threat to be abolished once and for all. I've worked too hard and too long for any of my plans to be disrupted."

* * *

Light glared at the camera. He hadn't seen Lawli all day, or the day before for that matter, but he just _knew_ that wasn't the case with Lawli. He would bet just about anything that the detective was sulking somewhere behind a computer screen or the camera monitors. He was probably watching Light now, brooding and eating some sort of cake. Lawli always had a habit of sulking and brooding. Light had long ago been used to such things, and after being reintroduced to his friend unknowingly, he was used to this older Lawli's sulking periods too. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He sighed, his gaze finally leaving the camera where it had been stuck for the past half hour. He wasn't precisely sure how long he had been in confinement, but if he had to guess, it would be close to around two weeks now. He still had a bit before his twenty-three days were up, and he dreaded the time when L would know without a doubt that he was Kira. Of course, it could even be sooner if Rem would show up. He may dread the results, but if the shinigami did show up, he would get her to confirm his identity with L nonetheless. It was less dangerous without him around for everybody involved.

He flexed his sore muscles, but stopped when they stiffened in pain. Damn Lawli. He had been in handcuffs for close to two weeks, and it was hell on his muscles.

Light let his head fall back against the wall he was sitting against with a dull thud. He _missed_ the bloody detective, and he was really rather irritated that L hadn't made his customary appearance. Usually L was in here for hours at a time, talking to him or playing games or even teasing the captive. Light shook his head at the thought. Lawli was such an idiot. Didn't he realize that fraternizing with the enemy wasn't a good idea? That one phrase wasn't so popular because it _didn't_ give good advice, after all.

Not that Light didn't enjoy the company. On the contrary, Light never wanted L to leave, but common sense won out. It would be much safer for Lawli to stay away from him. Light harbored a sociopath bent on destruction and world domination somewhere in his brain. That sort of thing didn't usual bode well for others.

He glared once more at the beeping red light of the camera, hoping the detective who was undoubtedly behind the camera saw just how unpleased he was.

Stupid Lawli.

Suddenly, the red light stopped blinking. Light blinked his eyes in confusion. Did someone turn the cameras off? Was that a malfunction? He hoped so. If it was, then someone would more than likely have to come in and replace the faulty camera, then he'd have something to lift his boredom.

He heard a faint rumble, and the lights flickered madly before going out altogether.

Light swallowed hard at the sudden darkness. It was pitch black, not even a smidgeon of light coming from anywhere. What the hell was going on? Didn't this building have generators? The lights shouldn't have been able to go off. Light had a really bad feeling about all this. Something in his gut told him that things weren't right.

Of course, his panic got worse when he heard the door to his cell opening.

* * *

**EDITED 7-3-09**

**A/N: **And as much fun as THIS chapter was, the next one's gonna be even more so!

Okay, hopefully that helped make things a tad bit clearer on L's side, but you know, not TOO much, lol.

Sooooo, how about you SAY SOMETHING! lol, I am super eager to hear from you all!


	10. Light and Dark

**A/N: **Gah, I blood suck at trying to keep you all in suspense! I was trying to put posting up this chapter until TOMORROW, but look how well THAT worked out?! Ha!

ALRIGHT!!!! I am so freaking hacking excited. The talented and wonderful and my freaking hero of all time, etc, the lovely **Ileranerak**, has done a **FANART**! Oh, wow! Please go and check out chibi Ligth and L! It's adorable! _**http ://w. tallermanga. com/ oekaki/ dibujos/ TMO_**_, and I'll put a link on my profile here in a bit too, but I'm sure everyone can fill in the blanks otherwise!!!! (If not, I'm sorry, but you need help! :D).

Serious shit happens here you guys, and THAT'S all I'm going to be saying until the endnote!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Light and Dark_

* * *

L's eye twitched when the monitors went blank and Raito's scowling face disappeared.

Bloody _useless_ cameras.

He pulled out his mobile, handling it delicately, only to frown when he caught sight of the screen. No service? How could there be no - His eyes narrowed slightly in realization. Of course there's no service. He was a good twenty feet underground in the monitoring room.

L sighed. He'd have to go to a higher floor before he could call Watari. There weren't any landlines in this room to call the older man on, and he needed Watari to fix the cameras. As a former inventor whose life's work was centered around tinkering with technology, Watari was much better at that sort of thing than L could ever hope to be.

Then L would go check on Raito, even if he would have preferred to stay away from the younger man this evening. It was easier to watch Raito through a computer screen, after all. That way, Raito's presence didn't have such an effect on him.

He gave the blank monitors a baleful glare.

L figured that there was a 5% chance of Raito being behind the camera's sudden malfunction, but that still left 95% to speculation.

He swiveled the chair around, slouching towards the exit. He stretched his hand out and grasped the door handle -

And that was when the lights started flickering wildly.

L let go of the door handle, almost expecting the lights to stop flickering after he did so, and surprisingly enough, they did stop flickering. Only problem was that L was now completely bathed in darkness instead of light.

Immediately he expected foul play. This was too coincidental. Someone must have infiltrated headquarters. Chances were that the cameras monitoring Raito's cell weren't the only ones affected. More than likely, the whole building's surveillance was deliberately sabotaged before the power was shut down. No one outside of the taskforce, Misa Amane, and Watari knew what this building was used for, so who was here and what could they possibly want?

L used his memory to navigate the halls to the stairwell. Of course, the stairwell was just as dark as the rest of the building. L halfway wanted to turn back and grab Raito before making the eighteen-story climb up to where the taskforce should be, but decided against it. Raito was handcuffed and locked in a cell. He would be much safer if he stayed put, and L really wanted to stave off any awkward questions should the taskforce still be in the building.

L started climbing the stairs, being careful not to trip. It was rather late, so it might just be Watari, L, and Raito in the building, and that did not bode well with L. He cursed his lack of a flashlight and working mobile. From then on out, he'd make sure that every bloody room had at least _one _flashlight. He was sure that Watari would be able to provide one, but L had to find the older man first.

He opened his phone once again, annoyed to see that the bars indicating signal strength were still absent. He shoved the phone back into his pocket.

L didn't hear the scream that echoed below. He was already too far away.

* * *

Light screamed when he felt the end of a gun pressed against his temple. Ever since the incident where his father had led Light to believe that he was about to be executed, Light had shied away from guns, developing a minor phobia of them. Having a gun once again pressed to his head muddled his brain to the point where he could barely even think properly. However, it didn't take much thought for his flight or fight response to kick in, quite literally.

Light kicked out desperately, hitting the man in the gut. Whoever his attacker was, he was strong and had a gun, two things that were not in Light's favor. Light also had the added disadvantage of being handcuffed and weak-muscled for sitting around for two weeks.

Hearing the man give a muffled grunt, Light threw himself to where he knew the door to be. He'd open the damn thing with his teeth if he had to, but his shirt was jerked from behind, and he crashed back onto the floor, groaning at the sudden, jarring pain.

"Hold still!" growled a low voice. The man shoved Light face down on the ground, once again pressing the gun against his head.

Light froze, recognizing the voice instantly. He opened his mouth to question exactly what the hell the man _thought_ he was doing, but before he could voice his question, he gasped as he felt a sharp prick behind his ear. It had to be a needle, and it was shoved deeply into the skin behind his ear.

Light gasped and groaned in pain as the man pulled the needle out from his skin. Whatever was injected into him, the effects were almost immediate. He could feel his muscles becoming weaker. He struggled against the man's tight grip in vain. What the fuck just happened?

"Don't worry. It'll all be over soon," whispered the man so quietly that Light could barely hear him. The man moved him to where Light assumed he had been sitting previously before the lights had gone off and the intruder had entered.

The man maneuvered him into position, Light's back once again against the wall. Light couldn't have moved if he wanted to. His limbs did not respond, lying limp and useless at his sides. His blood was on fire, but he couldn't move, couldn't even scream anymore. The only thing that could move was his heart, and it was pumping madly, hurting Light's chest with its intensity.

"There now," whispered the man, but Light didn't hear him this time. The roar in his ears was too loud. Light was vaguely aware of something touching his hair through the mind numbing haze of pain.

He didn't hear the man leave.

The only thing he could hear was a dull roar and his racing heart. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing or crying or screaming, because he was _drowning _in the pain - so much pain! - and you can't breathe or scream or cry if you're _drowning_. Fire rushed through his veins, lashing at his insides. His whole world was pain, and he just wanted it to _end._

The last thought before Light finally gave in to the dark pain, before he faded away, was of his best and only friend. Lawli had been so much to him, and Light knew in his heart that Lawli could possibly have been even more, and now he only wished that he had told Lawli _everything_.

Light's heart gave one last shuddering, painful thump before falling silent.

* * *

L blinked at the sudden flood of light. He had made it to the sixteenth flight before the lights flickered back on. What was going on? Considering that he hadn't yet been attacked, there was a 40% chance that this whole ordeal could actually be explained without intruders or foul play. Deciding it would probably be best to continue up the last to flights to see if he could locate someone, he started climbing once again, only to be met with the scared face of Matsuda coming down the steps.

"Ryuuzaki! Oh, thank God! What's going on? Why did the lights go out like that?" asked Matsuda in a rush.

L shook his head. "That's what I'm trying to find out. Where are the others?"

"Oh, they left about thirty minutes ago, I was, uh, just using the computers for a, um, second . . ." Matsuda trialed off uncertainly.

L quirked his head and frowned. Matsuda shuffled his feet nervously. Judging by Matsuda's hesitant excuse and agitated fidgeting, L concluded that something else was going on that the other man didn't want L to know about. L was hit with a sudden suspicion.

"Were you responsible for the black-out, Matsuda-san?" demanded L. It wouldn't have surprised him, after all. Matsuda had a knack for causing unintentional mayhem.

Matsuda shook his head vigorously. "N-No! I didn't do anything, I swear!"

L's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what are you hiding, Matsuda-san?"

Matsuda gulped. He shifted his eyes up and then back down the stairs, obviously seeing if anyone else was going to be privy to the conversation. The only other person unaccounted for, assuming there weren't any intruders running around, was Watari, and L knew that the older man had probably gone to the basement to fix whatever problems occurred with the generators. Matsuda obviously didn't realize that the camera's were up and running again, if the blinking red light coming from the one in the corner ceiling was any indication.

Matsuda hesitantly met L's steely gaze. "You promise you won't tell anybody? Please, Ryuuzaki?"

L quirked his head again. "That depends on what it is, Matsuda-san."

Matsuda absently pulled at his sleeve nervously. "Well, you see, I don't have the internet at my apartment anymore. I, uh, used to just use my neighbor's signal, but my neighbor moved last week, so I can only use the internet when I'm here. And, well, erm, there's this girl I've met over the internet, and we've been - talking - and stuff -"

"Thank you, Matsuda-san. I understand what you are saying. You do not have to elaborate," hastily interrupted L. He honestly didn't want the know what kind of 'stuff' Matsuda got up to over the internet with strangers.

Matsuda nodded, looking highly embarrassed. "So . . . you won't, uh, tell the others . . . right? They'd never let me live it down."

"Your secret's safe with me, Matsuda-san," assured L.

Matsuda beamed. "Thank you so much, Ryuuzaki!"

L nodded, somewhat bemused by the man's antics. He had halfway been suspecting something underhanded, but the detective proved true to character in a most embarrassing way for all those involved.

"Will you help me ascertain that there are no intruders here, Matsuda-san?" asked L.

"Oh, yeah, sure. That's what I was doing when we ran into each other. Or, well, I guess I was just trying to find you or Watari, but looking for intruders is a great idea!" exclaimed Matsuda.

L resisted the urge to roll his eyes, pulling out his mobile and flipping it open. Finally, he had the signal to make a phone call. He punched in the number before delicately holding it up to his ear.

"Ryuuzaki? Are you alright?" asked the voice of Watari from the other end.

"Yes, Watari. Do you know what caused the black-out?" asked Ryuuzaki. He would be ready to hunt any infiltrators if Watari didn't know the cause, because if Watari did not know the cause by now, then there was a 70% chance that intruders were afoot.

"Seems like there was a power surge. It's completely fried the power circuit, and the generators weren't activated when the power was cut as they were supposed to. I've had to manual start them. I'll need to repair the power circuit and possibly the breaker before we can move from generator power," explained Watari.

"Hmm. A power surge? Watari, do you know why the cameras disconnected first?" asked L. He was relieved that the incident could be explained, but the cameras bothered him for some reason.

"I wasn't aware of that. Do you know how long it was between the disconnection and the black-out?" asked Watari.

"11.3 seconds," answered L immediately.

"It's possible that the surge caused it then. Anything longer than 15 seconds, and I'd say it was something else," said Watari.

L hummed in agreement, accepting the explanation easy enough until something proved it otherwise.

"Thank you, Watari. Would you mind finding me some strawberry cheesecake when you get a chance? I am going back down to see if the surveillance is in working order."

"Yes of course," said Watari.

L flipped the phone shut.

"So it was a power surge? No intruders then?" asked Matsuda.

"Apparently so," answered L, scratching his leg with his foot.

"Huh, well there _is _a lightning storm raging outside. Actually, it's been going on all day. Guess our electricity couldn't take the beating anymore, huh?," grinned Matsuda.

"Lightning storms do not necessarily cause power surges," said L, turning away from the man.

"Oh, uh, yeah. 'Night, Ryuuzaki!" exclaimed Matsuda.

L absently raised his hand in acknowledgement, climbing back down the flight of stairs. He would have preferred to take the elevator, but until Watari gave him the okay, he wasn't going to be taking any chances getting stuck in such a small space.

He'd make sure that the surveillance was in working order, then he'd go and check on Raito. No doubt Raito would be irritated at being left in the dark, both literally and figuratively speaking, so L would have to go and give explanations. Otherwise, Raito would be difficult later. Sometimes L felt as if he was dealing with a menopausal woman at times when it came to Yagami Raito.

L smirked at the errant thought. He should bring that up to Raito. He'd love to see the look on the other man's face.

Once he reached the room, L immediately set to work at bringing the monitoring systems back to working order. This particular room was specifically designed to view the containment cells only. The main monitoring room was on a different floor. He'd have to get Watari to deal with the other room once the man brought his cheesecake.

He flexed his fingers before typing in his final corrections. Yes, there. L was delighted to see the dark monitors flicker to life.

"Cheesecake?" asked Watari.

L was not so startled this time. He had heard the older man enter, after all, but Watari had waited until L had finished typing to announce his presence.

"Hmm, yes, thank you Watari," said L absently, taking the proffered fork.

"I should have everything back to working order in the basement by tomorrow afternoon," said Watari.

L nodded, his eyes never leaving his cheesecake. "Good. Would you mind taking care of the main monitoring room before you retire for the evening? I need to go and inform Raito-kun as to what has happened. There is a 95% chance that he is quite irritated at the moment."

"Actually, he looks like he's sleeping," commented Watari, leaning over L to see the monitoring screen better.

L frowned. He hadn't taken more than a cursory glance at the monitors since having them back online. He had reassured himself that Raito was still in the cell, and then he had turned his attention to his food. Watari had a point. Raito was in the same position as L had last seen him in, but his head was lolled to the side, and it appeared as if he had fallen asleep.

"The lights weren't off that long," stated L, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip in thought.

"No, only for about twenty minutes," agreed Watari.

"Hmm, I will check on him either way. At the very least, I can save him from a bad headache. That position looks entirely uncomfortable," said L.

Watari nodded, giving L a rueful glance. L wasn't known to fall asleep in the most comfortable positions either.

"I'll make sure everything is in working order upstairs," said Watari, taking his leave.

L cocked his head to the side, staring at the still image of the man on the screen. He didn't take much notice of Watari's exit, nor did he bring his attention back to the half eaten cheesecake lying on the plate in front of him.

Raito was unnaturally still.

Usually, Raito tossed and mumbled in his sleep, and it was very unlike Raito to fall asleep in such a position. L frowned before pushing aside his cake. He swiveled out of his chair and shuffled to the door.

This time, the lights didn't start flickering madly when he touched the handle.

As L navigated though the maze of hallways that lead to his friend's cell, he couldn't help but wonder why he felt the overwhelming need to make sure that Raito was sleeping comfortably. He just wouldn't feel right if he left the man asleep on the floor in such an uncomfortable position. This was completely out of character for him. Usually, he wouldn't care in the least, but this was Raito, and as long as L had known him, Raito had been the exception to the rule. L shook his head. He was being ridiculous, but he continued on to his destination all the same.

When L entered the cell, he shivered involuntarily. He would need to have the heating adjusted. It seemed to have turned particularly chilly since the last time he had been in the cell. He gave a half-hearted glare at the prone figure leaning against the wall. Raito should have told L. L would have adjusted the temperature.

"Raito-kun?" he called, trying to rouse the younger man.

"Raito-kun, wake up," said L again, but Raito refused to move.

L sighed, roughly grabbing Raito's shoulder. He shook.

"Raito-kun. You will have a headache if you. . ." he trailed off, watching with something akin to horror as Raito slumped to the floor with a dull thud.

L's heart was beating erratically, his eyes widened, and suddenly the cheesecake hadn't been such a good idea. He swallowed painfully.

"R-Raito?" whispered L, hesitant, almost afraid of the answer.

The other man didn't make a sound, and even worse, he did not move.

"Raito? Raito? _RAITO?!_" L shook the other viciously, but the man still refused to move.

_No No No No_

"This is _not_ amusing in the slightest! Raito, wake up! Wake up! _WAKE UP_!"

_Why wasn't he waking up?!_

But Raito did not move, did not _breathe_.

"Stop it Raito! _You need to wake up_!" shouted L in desperation, but no matter how much he tried to shake him awake, Raito refused to open his eyes.

L's breath was harsh and ragged, but he had enough frame of mind to finally check the other man's throat for a heartbeat, _praying _to _anyone_ who would listen, because L could not lose Raito, he just couldn't, and it just wasn't possible that Raito. . . was . . .

Dead.

_Dead._

Raito was dead.

_And suddenly, L was drowning._

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Holy shit dude.

So, what did you think? Wanna **SAY A LITTLE SOMETHING** on the matter? Hmm? Hehehe.

Okay, seriously you guys, this story is far from over. If you stop reading now, you'll miss what happens next, and believe me, you don't want to miss what happens next. ;D


	11. A Funeral in My Brain

**A/N: **Whew! I've never gotten such a response for one chapter! Wow! Thank you all so much!

Oh, and I've never gotten so many _**death threats**_ before either . . . o.0;;

Again, I'm kinky in that I take great, unbridled joy out of said death threats . . . keep 'em coming people! That make me giggle! XD I was totally going to wait till tomorrow to put this chapter up, but I just couldn't stand having it done and not up on the web! I hope you people are happy! Well, Light's _dead_, so maybe not all that happy, per se, but at least you get to see what happens now! Bwhahaha!

Oh, and the chapter title was **inspired by Emily Dickenson's awesome poem**, which I have included. Not so much the actual words, but **if you read it and understand it even a little bit** (which is so freaking HARD with Emily Dickenson!), then **you can see the parallels in the story**!

* * *

**I felt a Funeral, in my Brain**

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading – treading – till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,

A Service, like a Drum –

Kept beating – beating – till I thought

My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,

Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race

Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down –

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing – then –

_-Emily Dickenson_

* * *

The Art of Drowning

**A Funeral in My Brain**

* * *

To L, time was irrelevant.

It could have been seconds.

It could have been hours.

It could have been days.

But when it came down to it, time did not matter, unless L could somehow make it go backwards. Since that was impossible, the only thing that mattered to L was the man he held desperately in his arms. His mind was far too gone to worry about the 'hows' or the 'whys' yet. The only thing he could do was stare down at the silent man's face that rested peacefully in his lap.

_Raito._

Yagami Raito was an enigma, one that L had been determined to puzzle through. He was hailed the greatest detective alive, and to a certain extent, L enjoyed bringing justice to those who deserved it, but what he really enjoyed about being a detective was puzzling through the cases that had left great men stumped. It was like a hobby to him, and his entire life revolved around his puzzles.

But then Kira happened, and along with Kira came Raito.

L had never had so much difficulty in a case, nor had he had so much difficulty with a suspect, and then suddenly Raito became much more than a suspect to L.

If being a detective was his _hobby_, then Raito became his _obsession_.

He was obsessed with proving the brilliant young man to be Kira. He was obsessed with the cat and mouse game, the mind games, and all the power struggles between them. He was obsessed with winning and proving himself superior to the man whose intelligence rivaled his own so perfectly.

Then, little by little, his obsession transformed into something _else_. L had been confused, because in all of their petty squabbles, fights, and bickering, Raito somehow came to mean _something_ to the detective that went beyond an obsession fueled by a childish desire to win.

Raito became L's friend. His obsession stayed, but it held a new air of . . . affection . . . for the younger man.

When he first told Raito that he was his friend, L hadn't meant it. He was only trying to make Raito slip up, revel the slightest clue that he was Kira. Then after a while, L was surprised to realize that he really _did_ mean what he had said, and it only served to further confuse him. He promised himself that he wouldn't let any personal feelings on his part effect the integrity of his investigation, but evidence upon evidence poured in proving that Raito was _not_ Kira as L suspected.

L began to _happily_ second guess his earlier assumptions.

However, the childish need to win had not left him. He still was fairly certain that Raito was Kira, despite the evidence to the contrary. Even knowing this, L allowed himself to get closer to the brunet - much closer - as if chaining himself to the man could be anything _but_ close. As the months passed, L's feelings did not lessen when it came to the brunet. If anything, chaining himself to Raito had been a mistake.

It hadn't taken him long to realize he had lost.

He wouldn't be able to do a thing against his friend if Raito turned out to be Kira, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise. He would have had to tell Watari, or the taskforce, and let them deal with Raito, because L refused to be apart of Raito's downfall. He couldn't take that kind of action against his one true friend.

Then Raito had confessed.

Even though he had the means to finally do the detective in - L's true name - Raito had refrained from killing his only obstacle and _confessed_. L had been shocked and angry at him, even a bit depressed. Raito had _forfeited_ the game, and L could not stand that because he himself had already _lost_ the game. It shouldn't be possible for his opponent to forfeit the game when they had already won.

Of course, the self-sacrificial actions did nothing to hamper L's growing feelings for Raito.

But now . . .

L gently caressed the already cooling cheek of the man in his lap. Raito hadn't known about L's feelings. L had kept them so well hidden that even _he_ had had trouble realizing them.

And now . . .

L thought for a moment that Raito was crying. His cheek was wet. Then he saw another tear fall onto Raito's faced, and realized that _he_ was the one that was crying.

He couldn't remember the last time he had wept. He wasn't sobbing. No noise escaped his parted lips. No, his grief was silent, as silent as the man who lay in his arms.

Time was irrelevant.

It could have been seconds or hours or days.

But this did not matter to L.

The only thing that mattered to him was the man in his arms, and he only wished that he had told Raito _everything_.

_

* * *

_

Watari was the one who found them.

"Ryuuzaki? What are you doing?" questioned Watari, who was staring at the two in confusion.

L did not reply.

"Is Yagami-san ill?" inquired Watari once again, coming further into the cell.

Watari's charge did not make any move to reply. He only continued to stare down at the man who's head lay resting in L's lap. L was gently caressing the other boy's cheek, his fingers lingering on the boy's high cheek bones.

"L?" tried Watari, this time cautiously.

Upon hearing his name, the man finally acknowledged Watari. Watari's eyes widened slightly at his charge's blank stare and red eyes. It was obvious that L had been crying.

"He's dead," stated L, sounding utterly defeated.

"Wh-what? How?" stuttered Watari in shock.

"I don't know," replied L, once again turning his gaze to the man in his arms.

"L, we need to get him to the hospital," said Watari, recovering his wits.

L shook his head. "There is no point in doing so. He is already dead."

"We need to find out _how_ he died, L," tried Watari once again, his voice straining.

L shook his head again, this time more vigorously, his eyes never leaving the dead man's face.

"L, _please_," begged Watari.

"Why won't he wake up?" asked L, his voice cracking, while suddenly giving Watari his full attention. L sounded so child-like in that innocent question, especially when he looked at Watari as if Watari knew all the answers. His heart tugged painfully at the sight.

Watari hesitated. "L -"

"Raito-kun? Please wake up," whispered L, looking back down at the prone form.

Watari, now fearing for his charge's sanity, gently extracted L from the dead man's body.

"No, _Watari_! What are you doing? Leave me alone!" exclaimed L, but Watari was stronger than most people gave him credit for, and he pulled the skinnier man away from the cold corpse on the floor.

"_Watari_ -"

"L, he's dead. Raito's _dead_. You have to let him go. There's nothing we can do," pleaded Watari, pulling the man out the room.

"No! _No_! He's not dead! Raito! Raito, wake up! No, _stop_! Just let me go to him!" gasped L, pushing against the older man.

"_He's dead, L_!" yelled Watari, trying to shock the sense back into the detective.

It seemed to work. L suddenly went limp in Watari's arms, falling to the floor to curl into his customary fetal position. Small, gasping sobs could be heard coming from the shaking figure, and L's widened eyes never left the body on the floor.

"He's . . . dead?" repeated L, his voice sounding dull and broken.

"L, we need to -"

"I forgot," continued L, his glazed eyes once again meeting Watari's in dull surprise.

The look in his charge's eyes scared Watari. They were so _empty_. There was nothing of the L that Watari knew reflected in those dull orbs.

"It's okay, L. Come on. Let's get you upstairs. It's too cold in here," said Watari, helping the other man to his feet.

"Yes . . . it is cold in here. I wonder why Raito has not asked me to adjust the temperature yet," said L faintly.

Watari briefly closed his eyes in pain. He had had no idea that his charge was so attached to the other boy, and it was tearing him up inside to see the effect the boy's death was having on the man he considered his own son.

* * *

L sat on his bed, in the room that both he and Raito had shared for months. His knees were drawn up tightly to his chest. His dull gaze never wavered from the wall opposite him, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

This sort of behavior usually wouldn't have bother Watari, but L had barely moved since Watari had found him, and that was hours ago. Another worrying development was L being so steadfastly unresponsive to Watari's offerings of cake or tea. L didn't respond to any outside stimulation at all.

The boy really _had_ meant something to the detective then, and Watari would be lying if he said he wasn't desperately worried about his charge. He didn't know what to expect the detective to do, but as long as L wasn't trying to throw himself out the window, Watari would let him to grieve in his own way.

Watari sighed, stroking his mustache in agitation.

It was late, or early - close to seven o'clock in the morning - and he was tired, having stayed up the entirety of the night. He had returned from the hospital some hours before after delivering Yagami's body to a trusted friend that he and L had worked with in the past, and Watari expected the man to call soon. The doctor would run some blood work and a few tests on Yagami-kun to determine the cause of death.

At that very moment, Watari felt the vibrations of his mobile in his breast pocket. He hurriedly pulled it out, glancing at the unmoving figure on the bed before flipping his phone open.

"Yes?"

"Ah, Watari-san?"

"Yes, Sato-san. I'm glad you were available so late. Thank you for getting back to me on such sort notice. Do you know what happened to him?"

A sigh. "Well, anything for an old friend, and yes, we've found something. The blood work points to a heart attack, but that is unnatural in someone so young. I've pulled his files. He's not a criminal - far from it - but I can't think of any other explanation as to why the boy would die from a heart attack."

Watari stiffened at the doctor's prognosis. A . . . heart attack? But, did that mean that Yagami-kun _hadn't_ been - Had most likely been _murdered _by -

"Also, well, I tried to check to see if young Yagami-san had a history of heart attack or heart disease in his family. I pulled up his parent's files, and when I saw that Yagami Soichirou had suffered from a natural heart attack fairly recently, I pulled his blood work to see if there was any similarities between his and his son's, and I found something worth note," replied the doctor, sounding unusually hesitant.

"What was it?" asked Watari.

"Well, and just keep in mind that I personally rechecked its accuracy more than once, but it seems as if Yagami Raito is not the biological child of Yagami Soichirou and Yagami Sachiko. I thought this was odd, seeing as we have a birth certificate, but on further investigation, it seems as if that birth certificate and the medical history provided before the age of 10 can not be anything other than forged," explained the doctor.

"What? Why? Why would someone do something like that?" asked Watari, his mind racing.

"I'm not sure. I wouldn't have known it myself if I hadn't had Yagami Soichirou's recent blood work. I thought it was suspicious, but I doubt it has anything to do with the young boy's death. I just supposed you would want to know as I find it highly suspicious that the boy's records have been tampered with to such a degree. That in and of itself warrants further inquiry on your part, no doubt," said the doctor.

"No doubt," agreed Watari.

"I have the body awaiting pick up in the morgue. I'm sure you will be making the funeral arrangements?" asked Sato.

"Yes, yes. Someone should be there later today," agreed Watari.

"I am sorry for your loss, old friend," continued the doctor in a softer voice.

"As am I, Sato-san. Thank you for all of your help. I expect you will keep all of your findings discreet?" asked Watari.

"But of course," replied Sato.

Watari sighed, closing the phone. This whole ordeal was getting messier and messier.

L was still staring unseeingly at the wall, giving Watari no indication that he was even aware of the other man's presence, let alone the conversation that had just transpired. L was in no condition to worry about Watari's findings. He would leave the detective be for now.

Watari, however, had some investigating of his own to do.

But before that, the others needed to be told, and L was in no condition for that either.

* * *

Mogi was the first one to arrive.

The silent man gave Watari a brief nod before settling himself down at this desk. Watari returned the nod, standing silently against the wall, waiting for the others.

Matsuda and Aizawa came in together, Matsuda chatting away about some inane thing or another while Aizawa made a valiant attempt at ignoring his younger coworker. The pair barely glanced at Watari before moving to their respected desks. To them, it was assumed that Watari would be making excuses as to L's absence once again.

And then Yagami followed a few moments afterwards, and when he saw Watari, he scowled.

"Watari-san, it's been two weeks since I last saw my son, and now that Ryuuzaki has disappeared, I demand to know what's -"

"I will explain everything, Yagami-san. Please, everyone, just hear me out before you say anything," interrupted Watari, holding his hand up in a placating manner.

Yagami scowled, but said nothing, and the other's gave Watari their full and curious attention.

Watari cleared his throat. "Two weeks ago, something highly unexpected happened. Yagami Raito confessed to Ryuuzaki that he was Kira."

"_WHAT_?!" yelled Yagami, jumping up from his desk.

"Please, Yagami-san. This is difficult enough as it is. Please allow me to finish," replied Watari.

Yagami's gaze was smoldering, but nonetheless, he kept his mouth shut. The man's hands balled into fists, and Watari had to stop himself from taking a step back at the anger the other man was barely keeping in check.

"Ryuuzaki determined that Raito might have been under the influence of Kira, so he placed Raito back into solitary confinement for observation to determine if Raito was somehow under the control of Kira or if what Raito said was true," said Watari, pausing to gauge the mood of the taskforce.

Yagami was slowly turning red in anger. The others continued to hang on Watari's every word, wide eyed with disbelief.

Watari continued. "Last night . . . there was an incident -"

"Oh! Does this have something to do with the black-out?" interrupted Matsuda.

Watari frowned. He had forgotten about _that_ particular incident in the resulting mayhem. Strange, but . . .

"There was a black-out? When? And how did you know about it?" asked Aizawa, looking pointedly at Matsuda, as if silently accusing the clumsy man of causing it.

Matsuda flushed. "O-Oh, well, I was - working - late last night, and there was a black-out."

"I believe that that particular incident was an accident that unfortunately coincided with an even graver happening last night. I checked the problem myself. We experienced a power-surge, and the generators did not kick in automatically as they were supposed to. I had to manually start them," said Watari.

"So that's why the computers were acting funny this morning," added Mogi thoughtfully.

Matsuda nodded in agreement, still looking a little sheepish, but relieved that no one questioned him further.

"What happened last night, Watari-san?" gritted Yagami. It seemed as if the man's patience was running thin.

Watari took a steadying breath. "We - well, Raito . . . is no longer suspected of being Kira. He - died of a heart attack, last night, more likely than not at the hands of Kira."

The color drained from Yagami's face, his fists slackening. "_Wha-what_?"

"Raito's _dead_?" gasped Matsuda.

Yagami sat hard in his chair, his head in his hands. He refused to look at the taskforce, and Watari could see that the man's shoulder _shook_, if only slightly. No one moved to comfort the older man, all too stunned over the disturbing news.

Watari stood, gazing at the shocked room, silently wishing he could leave the oppressing room to check on his charge.

* * *

He had sent the team home. There was no reason to be there at a time like this.

Watari sighed as he finished the arrangements for the funeral, glancing at the silent man still staring unseeingly at the wall in front of him. He hadn't once moved since Watari had brought him to the room from the lower level, and it was well into the morning.

The funeral would be held tomorrow. Yagami-san had requested to see his son's - _adopted son's _- body, but Watari had informed him that Raito was more than likely already in transport to the funeral home. Yagami-san had numbly asked Watari to arrange it all, but had asked that Raito be buried in the western-styled graveyard next to a quiet park that supposedly had been a favored place to the deceased young man.

Watari took sip of his tea, grimacing at the temperature.

"What was the cause of death?" asked a dull voice.

Watari glanced at the detective, whose eyes were still glued to the wall.

"Heart attack."

"Kira, then," whispered the hunched man.

Watari nodded. "That is what I also expect. It seems as if Raito truly was under the control of Kira."

L didn't respond for a few moments, and when he did, Watari had to strain his old ears to catch the next words.

"I was so sure that Raito was Kira. I was wrong . . . and now Raito is dead," muttered L, holding his knees tighter against his chest.

Watari briefly entertained the idea of telling L about the mysterious forgery of Raito's identity. There was obviously something going on that L should get to the bottom of, but one look at the defeated and heart broken face of his charge, and Watari held back. He would find out himself and then tell the detective.

For now, L needed time to grieve.

* * *

"We have suceeded. The plan went smoothly."

"Excellent. And you are certain that there will be no suspicion?"

"Yes. The boy is dead, and I have made certain that nothing will be traced back to us.

"You have done well, my friend. Very well indeed."

* * *

His head hurt.

That was the first thought that came to mind when Light slowly began to regain consciousness. His eyelids were heavy, and his mouth felt uncomfortably dry. With valiant effort on his part, Light managed to open his eyes, only to be faced with darkness.

He was beginning to hate the dark.

After a few minutes of gathering his strength, Light attempted to sit up -

Only to knock his head against something hard and heavy.

What the hell . . . ?

He lifted his arms, feeling close, padded walls. Something was lying on his chest, he felt that too, trying to identify it in the dark. Flowers? He pushed against the hard, heavy top, his muddled brain not making the connection until -

_A coffin?!_

Light screamed.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Bam! Another chapter under the ole belt!

Weeeeeeeeeelllllll . . . . whadja think? Haha! I had so much _fun_ writing this one too!

So, come on! I need to hear you **SAY SOMETHING**! What did you think, hmm? Aren't you glad I didn't _really_ kill off Light?

Of course, this raises even MORE unanswered questions. hehehehehe! XD


	12. Suffocation

**A/N: **All of you never cease to make me blush! I stand in awe at the awesomeness that is the readers of my story. Without any of you, my story would not be possible! I would have given up long ago without eveyone's continued support and kind words. So thank you all!!!

**(And thanks for the death threats! Seriously, I really like those. They make me feels so special. If anyone is inclined, I'd love to get a few more!)**

So, I was sitting at the kitchen table a few hours ago, being annoyed by my 14 year old sister (while trying to write this chapter!), and she said something so stupid that I actually found sense in it and figured it was pretty deep. Thought I'd mention it for shits and giggles.

"Everything is just a little bit something."

Wow. Too right! XD Yeah, y'all probably want the story now. Okay, okay, I'll shut up!

Here ya go!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Suffocation_

* * *

It was raining the day of Raito's funeral.

A mass of black adorned figures crowded around the small gravesite, but L lingered a ways away from the crowd, not wanting to feel suffocated. He had even dressed for the occasion, wearing a somber black suit and dress shoes sans socks. He couldn't bear to wear socks.

Watari, dressed as smartly as always, held a black umbrella over the two of them. In fact, all the umbrella's were black, except for the sobbing Amane Misa's. Hers was red.

L briefly wondered why Raito had not been cremated. It was an entirely western-styled funeral. However, upon seeing the various gravestones bearing the name of Yagami, L concluded that the whole family had favored the western-style funeral for years.

The gravesite was indeed peaceful. Despite it being in the middle of Tokyo, it was situated at the edge of a quiet park. Trees, which were rare so near the city proper, swayed silently with the wind. The rain softly pattered on the ground, and the smell of wet grass and flowers tickled his nose. L understood why the Yagamis wished for Raito's final resting place to be here.

L shuffled his feet, staring blankly at the mourners. Misa was perhaps the loudest. The girl sobbed hysterically, oddly enough clinging onto to an uncomfortable looking Matsuda of all people. Raito's mother and sister held each other, each staring down at the gravestone of Yagami Raito. Soichirou had his hand on his wife's shoulder, silently bringing comfort to the woman, but L could see the glistening trail of tears on the usually stoic man's face.

The rest of the team was there, along with a few distant relatives of the Yagami's, and a few of Raito's peers from University. It wasn't a very large crowd, and for that L was thankful. He hated crowds almost as much as he hated socks.

The official story was that Raito had suffered a fatal fall down a stairwell. Ridiculous, but not wholly unbelievable, and it fit better than letting people know that the police chief's son was murdered by Kira. None of them needed the media attention that it would inevitably cause, and so the funeral was closed casket. This was both a blessing and a curse for L. He desperately wanted to see Raito's face just once more, but he knew that it would inevitably cause him more harm than good.

The hours following Raito's death had not only scared Watari, but L as well. L had never experienced grief to such a strong degree before, and was totally unprepared to deal with the emotional backlash Raito's death had caused. He had, for all intents and purposes, shut down. For hours he had been numb within his own mind, drowning in his grief, before finally being able to break through long enough to talk to Watari.

From there, Watari kept him grounded. He was not allowed to lose himself again. L knew Watari was afraid for his sanity. His brief and frightening display of temporary amnesia was enough to put Watari on high alert, and L found the elder man at his side at all times.

L didn't know whether to be relieved at the familiar presence, or annoyed at the overbearing older man. It made him feel weak to have Watari hovering over him constantly, like he wasn't strong enough to deal with it all himself, and maybe he wasn't. However, he'd be damned if he let anyone else know. Watari knowing was enough.

Which was why L gave himself this day. This was the last day that he would let himself mourn Yagami Raito. Tomorrow, Yagami Raito would be nothing but a painful memory, and L planned to throw himself whole heartedly into capturing the Kira that had murdered his friend and countless others, even if it meant sacrificing his own life to do so.

It was more than a game now. It was personal.

He wouldn't tell Watari though. If the older man knew what lengths L was prepared to go to secure the murderer's execution, he'd never get the man to leave him alone.

"Everyone is leaving," muttered Watari.

L looked up from where he had been studying a particularly crumbled gravestone while deep in thought. Yes, everyone was breaking away, heading back to their respected cars or taxis that lay in wait.

However, L made no move to leave. He stood, watching the black mass make their leave. A few broke away, coming over to where he stood, and L recognized Aizawa, Matsuda, and Mogi.

"Hey, Ryuuzaki," greeted Aizawa quietly. It was the first time that L had seen most of them in almost a week. Matsuda and Mogi nodded, and L was somewhat surprised to see that Matsuda's eyes were puffy. The younger man had always been rather fond of Raito.

"I expect everyone to return to Headquarters in a week. If Yagami-san needs more time, it is understandable. However, we must concentrate all of our efforts on finding Kira," stated L, his voice once again monotonous. His dull voice was a defense mechanism now, more than anything. He didn't want the others to detect the pain he was feeling.

"But it's been almost four weeks since the murders stopped. I thought it was Higuchi?" queried Matsuda.

"You idiot. Don't you know whose funeral we're at?" glared Aizawa.

Matsuda flushed, looking away in embarrassment.

L shook his head. "Higuchi was the third Kira. The first and second are still out there, and with Raito-kun's death, it is possible that he was first Kira and the second Kira killed him. However, I do not believe that to be the case. The most plausible theory I have at the moment is that Raito was not Kira, but was somehow being controlled by the first Kira, if his confession and subsequent death is anything to go on. I would not be surprised if the killings began again within the next week or so."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I wouldn't be too shocked either," grunted Aizawa.

Mogi and Matsuda nodded in agreement.

"I will see you all in a week. Please let Yagami-san know that I do not expect him back so soon," said L, and the others recognized it for a dismissal.

"Yeah, we'll do that," said Aizawa, turning to leave.

The others followed suit, except Matsuda. He was biting his lip, a nervous gesture that L had observed before and concluded that the detective did so only when he was debating on whether or not to say something. L didn't know if he wanted to hear what the other man hesitated to say or not.

"Ryuuzaki, I-I just wanted to -" and then Matsuda hurled himself at L.

L blinked, dumbfounded to realize that Matsuda was _hugging_ him.

"I'm so sorry! I know Raito was your friend! You must really be hurting inside, and I'm sorry," cried Matsuda.

L cut his eyes to Watari, silently begging for help. The older man merely stared, obviously torn between muted amusement and worry at his charge's predicament.

Finally, Matsuda let go. He patted the stunned detective awkwardly on the shoulder before running to catch up to the other two.

L shuddered. He had been unprepared for the physical contact, and it left him unsettled.

"Shall we?" asked Watari, indicating the black Rolls Royce that was their usual affair.

L shook himself a bit, trying to lose the uncomfortable feeling. "No, Watari. I will only be a moment. Why don't you start the car?"

Watari studied him for a brief second before nodding. He offered the umbrella to L, but L shook his head. With a sigh, Watari left him in the rain.

L walked slowly to the gravesite, paying no mind to the rain that was quickly soaking his hair and nice suit. His attention was solely focused on the coffin that hovered over a deep hole, suspended by the metal that would gently lower it into the grave later on.

L stared at it, willing himself not to run over there and pry open the coffin. He could feel the desperation, grief, and a bit of guilt coiling in his lower abdomen, threatening to release havoc upon him once more. He viciously suppressed it. He would not let those emotions conquer him again without a fight.

However, he hesitantly touched the coffin, letting his fingers caress the cold surface.

"I am so sorry that I could not protect you, Raito," whispered L, his voice cracking with suppressed emotion.

He drew his hand back, his eyes roving over the coffin, as if trying to remember every detail about the elongated box his friend was trapped in.

"Please rest knowing that I will bring your murderer to justice, even if it takes my own life to do so," said L, his voice stronger with his conviction.

"Goodbye, Raito-kun. I . . . will miss you."

And L turned, putting Yagami Raito behind him in more ways than one.

He did not look back.

* * *

Watari was skilled in many things. He was an excellent driver, his sniper skills were par to none, he had been hailed as one of the greatest inventors of the century, he could pilot a helicopter, an aeroplane, a sailboat, and he could even make a mean soufflé. However, if there was one thing that Watari was not good at, it was detective work, ironically enough.

Watari had retired to his private quarters early in the evening. He had claimed that all the events of the past few days had worn him out. Truthfully, Watari was feeling fine, but he had to have a good excuse to leave L so early in the evening, especially on the day of Raito's funeral.

But L _seemed_ better. He wasn't staring off into space, or sobbing, or trying to throw himself of a balcony, or anything of that drastic sort, and for that Watari was grateful. If fact, L seemed to have turned back to the Kira case with a fresh gusto that Watari was sure stemmed from Raito's death. However, instead of being worried, Watari was thankful that L had found some way to channel his grief that did not involve a semi-catatonic state.

Watari sighed, putting thoughts of his ward out of his mind. It was distracting him from the task at hand. He adjusted his spectacles and squinted at the computer screen once more.

If only he had the deductive skills of his charge, then maybe he could get somewhere with his own investigation. The forgery of documents pertaining to Yagami Raito was like an itch he couldn't scratch. He wanted to know why the younger Yagami's birth certificate and medical history were faked. There was obviously something going on, something that someone somewhere wanted to hide. He supposed he could have simply asked the Yagamis, but this close after the funeral would be bad form.

So that left Watari on his own.

Hours later, Watari snapped his laptop closed with a frustrated sigh. He was getting nowhere. He just didn't have the skills required for the type of investigation he was trying to do. He would have to tell L. This situation, while certainly not related to the Kira case, would undoubtedly interest his ward because of L's close connection to the late Yagami.

Besides, having L weasel out the information would in turn satisfy his own burning curiosity as well. After all, Quillish Whammy _hated_ not knowing why things were or how they worked, and he did not rest until his curiosity was sated. That was what had made him so good at his craft as an inventor, after all.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to stave off the exhaustion, and then gave the bedside clock a nasty glare for good measure. It was close to three in the morning. There just weren't enough hours in the day. His mind flashed to his ward. He thought ruefully that some people had all the hours in the world, especially if they did not sleep.

Thoughts of his ward reminded him that he would have to tell L about the mystery surrounding Yagami Raito's early life, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to wait a few days. L probably needed the time to center himself once more before he tackled something so emotionally draining.

Then again, maybe he should just drop it altogether. Yagami Raito was dead. Did he really want to bring the man's ghost back to haunt his ward, who had obviously been very attached to the young man, just because Quillish Whammy had an insatiable need to sate his curiosity?

Watari sighed in frustration, torn between dropping it and telling L.

He stood up from his chair, carefully straitening his back. He could feel his old bones creak in protest. He turned to the bathroom, intent on brushing his teeth before climbing into bed for a good three or four hours of sleep, and made his decision while squeezing toothpaste onto a navy blue toothbrush.

Watari would keep his own counsel for now, but he would eventually bring it up to L. His ward's mental and emotional well being were more important that his damned curiosity could ever be, and L needed some time to distance himself from all of this.

Yes, Watari would find the answers, but not now.

* * *

He distantly noted in the back of his mind that he was hyperventilating.

Light clawed desperately at the fabric lining the ceiling of the coffin. His gasping screams were the only sound he could hear except for the ripping fabric. He pushed as hard as he could against the top, but his arms were weak, and the lid was unforgiving.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had awoken. He had nothing to measure the passage of time. It was dark and cold and Light swore he could feel the walls of the coffin slowly closing in around him. It was getting tighter and everything felt narrower all of the sudden.

When the fabric had given way to polished wood, Light had clawed against that too. Anything to get himself out of the box he was trapped in. His fingernails scratched harshly against the wood, tearing the nails. He could feel the blood roll down his fingers, and the smell of blood and flowers in such an enclosed space made him gag and his stomach roll.

He prayed that the suffocation would end. He only wanted to break through, and again he pushed weakly against the lid. It didn't budge.

Tears streamed down his face. He had never been so frightened in his entire life, and the certainty of his impending death was made clearer as it became harder to breathe.

Suddenly, something slammed against the coffin, snapping Light away from the mind numbing fear that had polluted his brain. He felt the jarring vibrations as something thudded against his wooden prison repeatedly.

He gasped as the lid was ripped away, blinking wildly at the flashlight that shined in his face.

"Raito?" asked an urgent voice, one that flooded him simultaneously with confusion, fear, and hope. It was the same voice that had attacked him in his cell when everything was black.

"D-Dad?"

* * *

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **What the hell? Soichirou?!?! Huh? Dude.

Yeah, some of you saw that one coming. Some of you didn't. XD Annnnyway, y'all should probably **SAY A LITTLE SOMETHING THREATENING**! Hahaha! What is it with me? Why do I find threatening reviews so warm and fuzzy? Oh well. XD

Thought I'd give a shout out to one of my new buddies on Gaiaonline who follows my story. Drop a line if your on there. I love making new friends!

Thanks for being so awesome **Moonkist_x_**!!!! You make me smile! C:

Oh, and did the title make anyone else start singing that song that I can't remember the name of? "Suffocation! No breathing! Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding!" Duh nuh duh nuh nah nuh nuh nuh . . . . Yeah, it's 1AM. I obviously need sleep. Hah, sorry you guys.

I do leave a lot of cliff hangers, don't I?


	13. The Great Escape

**A/N: **Helllooooo, again friends!

Annnnnd here's the next chapter! Yay!!!! Once again, THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS!

Oh, and guess what? I had another epiphany thing, and I was all like, "Oh shit! That is SOOO fucked up!" And then I started laughing . . . heh. Yeah, I think I'm having too much fun with this story, but the "Oh shit that's fucked up!" won't show up for a little bit. XD

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_The Great Escape_

* * *

"Thank God I got to you in time!" his father whispered harshly.

Try as he might, Light could not comprehend the situation. He stared blankly up at his father's red face, the older man's hair was sticking to his head due to an excessive amount of sweat, and he seemed to be out of breath. Light realized numbly that his father must have _dug_ him up.

Soichirou had moved the beam of his flashlight so as not to blind Light, who's eyes were rapidly adjusting. The light reflected harmlessly on dark walls of soil, roots jutting out here and there. The smell of earth was a welcome alternative to blood and flowers, and Light took gasping breaths.

He concentrated on the painful sting of his fingertips, trying to focus his mind on the present, but try as he might, he still felt like he was suffocating, like he was still trapped in a coffin six feet under ground.

"G-Get me out of h-here," rasped Light.

Soichirou hoisted Light to his feet. Light's legs were weak, and his foot caught in the blood-stained and ripped fabric of the coffin lid. His father helped him untangle his limbs and led him to the ladder that lay innocently against the wall of soil.

"I'll help you. Just one step at a time," muttered Soichirou, his hands steadying Light as the younger man awkwardly grasped the spokes.

"You're going to -" he gasped "- tell me what the hell-" he coughed "- is going on?" gritted out Light.

"Not here. We have to move quickly," replied Soichirou.

Light groaned, his foot missing a spoke. His knee slammed onto the metal of the ladder.

"Careful," cautioned Soichirou, who was still supporting Light from behind.

Finally, Light was high enough that he rolled himself off the ladder and onto the wet grass. He tried to calm his racing heart by taking deep breathes. His eyes cut to the man he called his father. He was climbing back down into the hell that Light had just escaped.

"No evidence. No evidence," the man muttered to himself, but it was loud enough that Light caught it.

Light paid him no mind. He was too tired, too _relieved_ to be out of that _prison_, to care what the other man was talking about. Although, he got a fairly good idea of what his father was up to when he heard a ripping sound.

His father emerged from the pit a moment later. Within his gloved hands was the torn and bloody pieces of the coffin lining. Light frowned.

"On the off chance that someone else wants to dig you up, I can't leave anything behind. Dead people who've been embalmed don't bleed," explained his father.

Light gave the man a weak nod. Exactly how many people did his father expect to go digging up his grave? He grimaced. Maybe he didn't want to know.

His father descended into the pit once again, leaving the tattered linings to taunt Light. Within the moonlight, the remains looked innocent. In the darkness, they had been anything but.

He shuddered, tearing his eyes away from the pile of bloody rags. Dead people didn't bleed, but he did, and yet he woken up in a _fucking_ coffin. The only reason he would ever be in a coffin was if he was dead, but he _wasn't_ dead. His mind raced. His father had faked his death, going so far as to have him buried, before digging him back up.

_Why_?

What the hell was he missing? Why had his father gone to such lengths to ensure that people thought he was dead? How had his father even known where Light was in the first place? L had fed the team some half-arsed excuse about undercover work. His father shouldn't have known where he was, nor should he have been able to get to him. And how exactly did he end up in a coffin, supposedly dead and embalmed? Wouldn't someone have noticed that he wasn't all that dead?

His head was starting to hurt, so Light decided it would probably be best for him to think about all of that later, when he hadn't just crawled out of his own grave like some godforsaken zombie.

His father once again emerged from the pit, this time dragging the ladder up after him. The man tossed the ladder to the side before taking up a large shovel that had previously been speared in an equally large pile of earth.

Soichirou began to refill the pit.

As his father worked, Light could feel his strength returning. His limbs had more feeling, his thinking was clearer, and he could sit up without relative difficulty. His fingers stung painfully, but the pain helped in keeping him focused. He wasn't surprised to see that he wore a suit, and he wiped his dripping, bloody fingers on his pants legs in disgust.

Next time he died, he was going to be fucking _cremated_.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" yelled a gruff voice in surprise.

Light jerked.

His father froze mid-throw, a bit of dirt falling from the shovel into the pit.

A police officer, one of the lower ranked who's job it was to patrol places like these, stared in horror at the two men, who by all appearances, were grave robbers. Before Light or his father could do anything, the police officer fumbled for his radio.

"I need back up at the Shibushiya graveyard! I repeat, I need -"

That was as far as the man got before Soichirou slammed his head with the shovel. Light had never seen the old man move so fast.

"God damn it!" growled Soichirou, before throwing down the shovel.

"Dad?" asked Light hesitantly.

Soichirou didn't answer. He grabbed the bloody lining. Then he pulled Light to his feet and dragged him away from the half-buried empty gravesite. Light stumbled after him, thankful that he could keep up, if only barely. They dodged gravestones, heading up the hill where Light could see a car parked.

His father threw him and the bloody rags into the passenger's seat and slammed the door, before getting in on his side, turning on the car, and gunning it. Light's stomach rolled at the forceful movement. Having the ripped coffin lining in his lap didn't help matters either, so he quickly threw it in the backseat, and then buckled his seatbelt for good measure. After all, he wasn't to eager to return to his grave so soon.

Light gave one last backwards glance at the graveyard before looking away.

* * *

"_WHAT_?!" exclaimed L, his fingers digging painfully into the arms of his swivel chair.

"It happened four hours ago," explained Watari, subdued. The older man had only been in bed for an hour before Aizawa had called to inform him of what had happened.

"You mean to tell me that someone _dug up _Raito's coffin and _stole_ his body?" asked L, his face a parody of calm. Inside he was seething.

Watari nodded.

"I'll kill them," growled L.

"L!" exclaimed Watari in shock.

"Damn it, Watari! Fine. I will not kill them, but I will make them wish that I had once I get through with them. Death would be too good for the scum. A shame they closed down Alcatraz, but I heard that the American's make Guantanamo Bay a _lovely_ place to live," growled L, an unusually cruel smirk twisting his features.

"Grave robbers are not sentenced to life in prison and especially not at Guantanamo Bay," reminded Watari.

L shot him a dark glare. "Who said I would peg them for _just_ grave robbing?"

"L!"

L turned away from the older man, his mind in turmoil. How dare someone desecrate Raito's grave! Who ever was responsible for this would rue the day they had ever laid eyes on a _shovel - _that L would make sure.

"Why would someone even do such a thing?" asked Watari, obviously forgoing the argument that was sure to come should Watari push L.

L gave him an annoyed glare. "It is not uncommon, especially in large cities such as this. Human trafficking, even if the human is dead, is a profitable business. The soil of a freshly dug grave has not settled. It is easy for body snatchers to dig up the freshly buried dead in order to harvest individual organs and tissues to sell on the black market for transplantation surgeries, usually in the form of allografts."

"Ah, yes, I seem to recall a few cases like that in the past," remarked Watari. The older man was trying to stay objective, as if this situation was just like any other case. He obviously didn't like the hardened look in his ward's eyes, nor did he like the way his ward was clenching the arms of his chair so tight that his knuckles were white with the pressure.

L viciously bit down on his thumb, causing Watari to cringe, but L paid him no mind.

"I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something important," L murmured, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He was looking up the police files that pertained to the purloined body of his friend.

"Eh? Do you think something's afoot?" asked Watari, peering over L's shoulder at the files the young detective pulled up.

L shook his head. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

"I glad that Aizawa had the sense not to inform Yagami-san about the incident just yet. There's no telling what the man would do," remarked Watari quietly.

"Hmm, yes. No doubt he would have plans similar to mine. They have not uploaded images of the crime scene yet. We only have the preliminary report," sighed L.

Watari nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't be surprised if a witch hunt is called against the perpetrators, especially when Yagami-san is informed."

"That is exactly what I am counting on it," affirmed L, his face hard.

* * *

The silence was suffocating.

His father hadn't once looked at him the whole time they were driving. Light snuck glances at the him. Soichirou held the wheel in a death grip, his back rigid, and his eyes never wavering from the road. Light had ceased to recognize his surrounding within the first ten minutes of being in the car.

"There is a duffle bag in the trunk filled with clothes and any necessities that you will need. Open the glove compartment," said his father, his eyes still on the road.

Light, confused, opened the compartment and reached inside. He pulled out what appeared to be a sheaf of papers, a plane ticket, and - a passport?

"Dad? What -"

"I'm taking you to the airport. You're plane leaves at five AM," interrupted Soichirou.

"What? Where? What the hell is even going on?" yelled Light in frustration.

Soichirou shook his head. "You're going to England. You have family there. The papers you hold contain the names and addresses to all of your extended family. Granted, there's not many, but hopefully someone will take you in. If not, there's plenty of money in the duffle. As to what is going on, I can only tell you what I know, but even I don't know all of it."

"Then what do you know?" exclaimed Light, his head spinning. He was going to try and find family . . . in _England_? He didn't even know that he _had_ family in England.

"Did you ever think it was odd that a Japanese couple came all the way to England to adopt a ten year old boy?" asked his father suddenly.

Light blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. Now that he thought about it . . .

"Not . . . really," answered Light, afraid of where his father was going with this.

"I was contacted by a former associate of mine who called in a favor. I was asked to travel to England with my wife under the guise of being a barren couple looking for a son. He gave us your name, the address of your orphanage, and plane tickets. He even pulled some strings to expedite the adoption process. Foreign adoption is England is extremely rare," explained Soichirou.

Light's head spun at the revelation. "But, why? Why would some guy want you to adopt me?"

Soichirou shook his head. "I don't know the exact reason, but I do know that it has something to do with your biological parents."

"My . . . parents?" breathed Light, his eyes wide.

"I don't think he wanted to give you up just yet after having found you at that orphanage, but something caused him not to proceed with his earlier intentions towards you, whatever they were at the time, and he called on my help."

"Are you trying to tell me that some _psycho_ has been manipulating my entire life without me knowing? For what? What the fuck makes me so god damn special?" angrily yelled Light.

Soichirou sighed. "I don't know. We were just told to adopt you. If I had said no, my family would have been killed."

"But, but why - why did you, in the cell? And the coffin?" tried Light, his mind as jumbled as his words.

"Because he contacted me again after all these years. He wouldn't tell me why, but he wanted you dead. I don't know how, but he knew where you were, in that cell. He told me that you knew . . . _things_ . . . you weren't supposed to, that you were getting too close to something, and he wanted you dead. I tried to reason, plead, anything to save you, but if I hadn't gone along, hadn't renounced my feelings towards you, hadn't _killed_ you, then he would have killed you anyway, along with Sachiko, Sayu, and myself," explained Soichiorou.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Light tried to process all that the man beside him had just told him. He had his suspicions that Soichirou was holding some things back, but Light couldn't concentrate on that with all the recent revelations. Out of everything that he wanted to know, and he wanted to know absolutely everything, there was only one question that he yearned to know, one that only Yagami Soichirou could answer.

"Why am I still alive?" asked Light quietly.

Soichirou sighed once again, taking one hand off the wheel to ruffle Light's hair like he used to do when Light was younger.

"I couldn't kill my son," answered Soichirou softly, simply, as if it explained everything. And it did.

Light felt himself flooded with emotion. His eyes pricked, but he deftly blinked away anything that would be cause for embarrassment. Yagami Soichirou truly was his father, despite the blood not shared between them.

"So you faked my death?" asked Light in a steady voice, determined to curtail any unnecessarily mushy emotions.

"Yes. I injected you with a pentalinium oroxide compound. For all intents and purposes, the victim dies of a heart attack, but in truth their body is in a state of suspended animation for up to three days after injection."

"A heart attack? But does that mean that -"

"Yes, L believes that Kira was the one that killed you," answered Soichirou simply.

Light froze. _Oh Lawli . . ._

"H-how is he?" hesitated Light.

"Not good," answered Soichirou, leaving it at that.

Light pushed any and all thoughts of L away. He could only deal with one thing at a time.

"And the autopsy? The embalming?" asked Light.

Soichirou shrugged. "It was assumed that you had died of a heart attack. After all, what else could a healthy young man on the Kira Investigation team sitting by himself in a fortified room die of? It was unnecessary to cut you open if preliminary tests proved the cause of death."

"That's a mighty large chance you took," glared Light.

"Well that, a little money, and few well placed threats go a long way," answered Soichirou.

Light blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, I am the chief of police. I have connections."

"Right, so how are you going to explain my missing body?" asked Light, trying not to let his surprise at his father's actions distract him.

"I'm not going to explain anything. As far as I am concerned, my son's body has just been stolen by grave robbers, more than likely for your organs. I'm going to be cracking down on some of the local human trafficking rings," explained Soichirou.

"That makes sense," muttered Light, trying not to think about what L would do when he found out.

"I'll probably be able to plant some false evidence. Maybe someone will recover your left kidney," continued Soichirou, smirking slightly to himself.

"So, according to the world, I died at the hands of Kira?" asked Light, wanting that little fact to be reassured.

"According to the world, you died by falling down a flight a stairs. According to all those who matter, you were murdered by Kira," corrected Soichirou.

Light stared. "How embarrassing."

His father didn't respond.

Light glanced out the window, trying not to lose himself in his worries, when something caught his eye.

His back went rigid as he instantly recognized the surrounding area. "I know where we are!"

Soichirou gave him a funny look. "Yes, we're close to the airport."

Light shook his head. "No, not that! There's something I need to get! Turn up here!"

"What? Why? We don't have the time -"

"Please, just do it!" begged Light.

Soichirou gave an explosive, annoyed sigh, but complied all the same. They continued on the road for about three minutes before Light told his father to stop the car.

"What are you doing? You're not going into those woods!" exploded his father.

"Dad! Trust me! This will only take a second. There's something I have to get," rushed out Light, already halfway out the car.

If only he had an apple.

_

* * *

_

**EDITED: 7-3-09**

**A/N: **Alright! More of the conspiracy is revealed . . kinda! YEAH!

Alright everybody! You know the drill! Why don't you **SAY SOMETHING**! Lol, I love to hear from you guys! It spurns me into writing faster!


	14. Unsettling Revelations

**A/N: **Urgh. I'm updating late again. This time it's two in the morning. Hah, well, at least I finished finals today. Now I don't have to worry about getting up super early! Woot!

Okay, this is gonna be a good chappie! I got very excited towards the end! :D

Blargh, I'm gonna cut it here tonight (THIS MORNING) you guys. I am so uploading this and crawling in bed.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Unsettling Revelations_

* * *

When Light finally returned to the car, his father didn't ask why his bloodied fingers were covered in dirt. Soichirou didn't mention the odd way that Light would continuously shoot glances at an empty backseat. He didn't even question why Light's suit jacket looked a little squarer than normal in one place where an inner pocket would be.

No, he just took one look at Light's pleading face, and decided that maybe some things were better left unsaid.

What he did say, however, was that they needed to hurry if Light was going to make the plane, and that Light should probably stop at one of the gift shops in the airport and pick up a bottle of pain reliever and a tube antiseptic cream for his fingers.

Light nodded, and Soichirou could detect the subtle relaxation of his son's tensed shoulders.

Some things really were better left unsaid.

* * *

"_Now boarding flight 211 Tokyo to London at Gate C 34. Now boarding flight 211 Tokyo to London at Gate C 34."_

As much as Light loathed it, he was still dressed in his funeral suit. Granted, it was torn in one place, and there were grass stains and a few unnoticeable blood stains on the knees, but he did look half way presentable. It was just slightly disconcerting to think that if he really were dead, then he'd be wearing this suit while he rotted six feet under.

Light got in line, glancing once more at his ticket just to make sure it was still there. Surprisingly, Light had gotten through security with no problems whatsoever. Considering the week he'd had, he was shocked that he hadn't been detained. However, the man had only glanced at his passport and new ID before shipping Yamaguchi Tsuki through without a problem.

Light grimaced at the similarities between his old and new name. He would have hoped that his father would have found something a little less connected to Yagami Raito, but he supposed it would be easier to remember answering to Tsuki than something else. He'd only have to remember not to automatically correct people when they pronounced his kanji wrong. Of course, he probably wouldn't have much trouble in England. He'd be signing his name in English anyway.

Light dutifully handed over his ticket to the smiling woman before entering the narrowed hallway that connected the airport to the plane. He suppressed a shudder, already knowing that the next few hours were going to be hell.

Light quickly found his seat, shoving the duffle bag his father had provided him with into the overhead. He was thankful to have the window seat at least. It was a welcome distraction.

He strapped his seat belt on and settled back into the seat, closing his eyes. He was so tired. Maybe he'd sleep through the plane ride. Then he wouldn't notice exactly how small it was on the inside. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, the annoying sound of the captain addressing his passengers stirred him from his rest.

Light made a valiant effort to ignore the grating voice of the captain, keeping his eyes closed in hopes of dosing off. He heard a familiar chuckle, and he opened his eyes long enough to glare at the shinigami that was floating up and down the aisles.

It was strange having the annoying shinigami hanging around him once again. If he could have avoided it, he would have, but he couldn't leave the Death Note buried in the woods. The chance that someone would have happened upon it was slim, but Light wasn't in the mood to take chances.

He'd have to find a better place to hide it, because he definitely didn't need to have the blasted thing on his person. It was bad enough that it was shoved in his bag, where he would surely see it every time he opened the duffle. He didn't need to subject himself to the temptation, so he'd have to find an alternative once he reached England.

Actually, he was surprised to find that the little demon inside of him hadn't reared it's ugly head when he'd regained the notebook, but Light wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'd deal with that part of him when it came up, but at the moment he had other, more pressing matters to attend to.

"Does this plane have any apples?" asked Ryuk, for perhaps the third time in less than ten minutes.

And of all the pressing issues he had at hand, _apples_ was certainly not one of them.

Light shook his head slightly, glaring at the twisted, hand-standing shinigami. Every time a stewardess walked through the invisible specter, they would inevitably shiver.

He hadn't had much time to tell Ryuk exactly what was going on, but when he'd informed the shinigami that they were on the way to England because everyone in Japan thought he was dead and someone really had tried to physically murder him, the shinigami laughed uproariously, commenting that Light was such an entertaining human.

Light was glad. He didn't want to think of the consequences when he ceased to be entertaining.

Light stared absently out at the early morning clouds. A bright array of pinks and oranges reflected off the clouds from the sun rise, and Light consciously made himself relax his tensed muscles. He would have to find a hotel to stay in for a few days once he reached London. Light had been pleasantly surprised to find an exceptionally large sum of money stashed away by his father in his duffle bag when he had been buying pain relievers and antiseptic ointment.

Light didn't want to think about where his father had gotten all that money. He hoped that his father hadn't dipped into his retirement, but nonetheless Light was thankful. There was more than enough to allow him a few days in a hotel, and he felt like he needed a few days to come to grips with recent happenings before he started planning where to go from there.

It had all just happened so fast.

One month ago he was an oblivious college student chained to an annoying detective with insomnia, frustrated to the gills because said detective was doing everything in his power to prove that Light was a serial killer.

Now, however, Light _knew_ he had been a serial killer. He _knew_ the true identity of that annoying detective. His father had initiated an elaborate plan to fake Light's _death_ while some anonymous _psycho fucker _wanted him dead for real. He was on a plane, bound for England, to search for a family he hadn't even known existed, with only a few names and addresses and a crazed shinigami to keep him company.

He was dead to everyone, except his father, and Light probably would never see the man again. He was completely on his own. He would have to start out a new life in England, and more than likely he'd never see Lawli again either.

_Never see him again . . . ._

It was that realization, more than anything, that made the gravity of the situation come crashing down over his head. He really _was_ alone. He wasn't just taking a vacation, no, he was _dead_. He was dead, and he could never go back to Japan.

The unknown stretched out before him, and it was all he could do to stop himself from hyperventilating. He had no direction whatsoever - not a goal, not a dream, not a clue. He would never see his parents or his sister again. He'd never even see bloody _Misa_, which could be a plus, but . . .

He'd _never_ see Lawli again.

Light didn't know why this thought hurt so much. Wasn't that the reason he had been willing to sacrifice his life? Because he didn't want Kira to get to Lawli?

So why did the realization that he'd never see Lawli again make him feel like he'd had a hole ripped through his chest?

When Light had been willing to sacrifice his own life to save Lawli's, he had been more than glad to do it. Light would have been dead, and Lawli would have been saved from the threat of Kira, should the demon ever gain control again. This had made death such an easy option, but now that Light wasn't dead, he found that living without his friend in his life was harder than the thought of death ever was.

And so here he was, an emotional, directionless basket case. What was he going to do? Could he really just ring the doorbell of people he had never known before and claim to be some long lost relative? What had his father been thinking when he'd shipped him off to England anyway? Of course, that's where his father had gotten him from, but couldn't he have been sent somewhere else? England had never been a pleasant place for him, what with his biological parents having been mur -

_His parents!_

Why hadn't he realized that sooner? That psycho fucker had something to do with his parents, and whoever that psycho fucker was, he had asked his father to kill Light because he . . . knew too much? Knew what? What could he have -

Lawli.

It had to have something to do with Lawli. Light hadn't discovered anything else of greater importance than the identity of the detective who was investigating him under the suspicion that Yagami Light was Kira, but how the hell had psycho fucker figured that out when even _Lawli_ hadn't known was anyone's guess. Then again, psycho fucker had known where he was for the past two weeks. Was it possible that psycho fucker had cameras in the building? This whole situation could be a lot bigger than Light initially thought, and it was a very unsettling notion.

But what did any of this have to do with his biological parents? According to Soichirou, the psycho fucker, for some reason unknown, had placed him in Yagami Soichirou's care, getting him out of England and a good few thousands miles away. Why? It was something to do with his biological parents, but it was connected to Lawli too, and he couldn't find any connection whatsoever between them except for himself.

So this led him to the question of just who exactly _was_ this psycho fucker? And what was so special about Light that the psycho fucker felt the need to orchestrate his life _and_ death?

Maybe that was what he could do? Maybe he could find out who this psycho fucker was. Maybe his relatives would have some information, and then Light could go from there. He could find out all the answers to his questions, and maybe the Death Note could be used just one more ti -

_No!_

He wasn't going to go there. If he really felt the need to murder someone, there were other options than opening himself back up to the darkness within him when he _knew_ how susceptible he was. One name would easily lead to another, and he would fall down that slippery slope until he was back to being his own special brand of _psycho fucker_.

He would cross that bridge when and if he came to it. For all he knew, his family might not even know who psycho fucker was or why he would be after Light's head.

So it was a long shot, but it was better than any other thing else he could come up with at the second, and it gave him a goal either way. Light wanted answers, and he'd be damned if he didn't find them. Maybe his father sending him back to England was more of a blessing in disguise than a curse after all.

He reached into his pocket, folding out the paper that listed his relatives' names and addresses.

_Yumi Thomas_

_Gregory Layfield_

_Roger Ruvie_

That was all the information he had, and Light would have to visit them all before planning his next step.

Light glanced at his wristwatch. He had only been on the plane for an hour. He heard Ryuk muttering about apples a few seats back, but ignored the shinigami.

He sighed.

It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

L sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

Although he had given the team the week off, every single one of them had come in the following day to assist L with the case he had taken over from the police, who were more than happy to hand it over. Apparently body snatching, while not common, wasn't too _uncommon_ either, but the bodies were rarely, if ever, recovered

The only team member who hadn't come in that morning was Yagami-san. No one had informed him yet, and L was loathe to be the one to do so. So, in a fit of selfish vindication over the _hug_ from the previous day, L had volunteered Matsuda for the job of telling the police chief in person.

"B-but, Ryuuzaki! I can't tell the chief that his son's body was stolen! He'd kill me!" exclaimed Matsuda, wide-eyed.

L merely stared at him, his face deadpanned. Matsuda gulped, looking away nervously, before reluctantly agreeing to visit the chief after lunch. L silently congratulated himself as Matsuda shuffled out the door before turning back to his work.

There wasn't much to go on. The statement from the police officer who had happened upon the pair of grave robbers wasn't very helpful at all. The police officer claimed that it was too dark to rightfully make out the men's features, but he did remember that one of the grave robbers was wearing what appeared to be a suit. Strange outfit to be robbing graves in, that was for sure, and it was something that L would have to think further on.

The police had gathered evidence from the crime scene, but it wasn't much. The shovel and the ladder hadn't yielded any distinguishable fingerprints, and it was assumed that the criminals had used gloves. It was also assumed that the two men had to be relatively young and able because there wasn't evidence of the body being dragged anywhere. L postulated that the men must have carried the body.

The origin of the ladder and the shovel hadn't helped either. Both had been traced back to large manufacturers that shipped the products nationwide. It would have been a different story if the tools had been from somewhere a bit more uncommon.

Unfortunately, the police had only been able to recover one of the men's footprints, and it was deduced that one of the criminals wore a size eleven in boots. L had commandeered a team of analysts from the police station to figure out the name brand, where they sold the boot, and its manufacturer, much like he had for the shovel and ladder, in hopes of gleaning a general profile for the type of man he was looking for, but the results hadn't surfaced yet.

All in all, L was faced with a distressingly dead end. He wouldn't be able to find the criminals by what he had, unless the boot analysis revealed a finger pointing miracle, so he had the team researching lists of known or convicted men associated in human trafficking with a concentration in body snatching who work primarily in and around the city.

L would have Mogi call a few in for interrogation at the police station. At this point, that was really all L could do with what he had, and it frustrated him to no end.

After the other detectives left for lunch along with Matsuda, L slunk away to the kitchen. If there was one thing that L liked about Watari, it was the man's ability to always have the refrigerator stocked with strawberry swirled cheesecake.

Instead of taking merely a piece, L took the whole cake out and grabbed a fork before returning to his laptop. He felt like he needed the extra boost. This whole ordeal, what with Raito's body missing with no leads and the unknown Kira still out there and having murdered L's only friend, had stressed him to the point where he was averaging three cakes a day since Raito's death. This was he second so far, and it was only noon.

L really was stuck for the time being until he got a lead on either of his cases. He couldn't really do anything about the Kira case until the killings started again. Well, they had started with Raito's death, but killing Raito had more than likely been a way for Kira of discarding a pawn who wasn't useful to him anymore, rather than starting up his crusade once again.

L took viciously bit into his cake, upset that anyone could ever look at Raito like that.

Raito hadn't been a pawn. He'd been the most important players on the board, and the thought of Raito being murdered by Kira made L's blood boil. It didn't help matters that some sick criminal had stolen Raito's body. It was like the younger man couldn't get a break. Even in death, Raito was still being used.

L frowned, taking another bite of cheesecake, before almost choking when the gruesome form of Rem floated right through the wall.

"Rem!" exclaimed L, surprised to see the specter now of all times.

The shinigami merely granted him a look, obviously not understanding why her presence was being met with such an enthusiastic response from the usually unemotional detective.

"Yes, human?" asked Rem inquisitively.

"Where have you been?" asked L, his mind whirling.

"I may be bound to the Death Note in your possession, but I am able to freely wander for short periods," answered Rem.

L quirked his head. So the shinigami had been . . .wandering? Somehow, that didn't seem to fit with what he had observed from the shinigami before, but if there was one thing that L knew from countless hours questioning the shinigami, it was that she wouldn't give up anything she didn't want him to know.

"Where is the other human?" asked Rem, glancing around.

L assumed she meant Raito. After all, Raito had hardly left L's company once the shinigami had been introduced into the investigation. Truthfully, Raito had barely left L's company in months.

"I must admit that I am surprised. As a shinigami, I would assume that you would be aware when someone has died," replied L haltingly, curious to the other's reaction.

This statement seemed to shock the shinigami, if L was correctly interpreting Rem's facial expressions. Of course, considering the death god was not human, L might have been completely off.

"Yagami Raito is dead?" questioned Rem hesitantly.

By the inflection in her voice, L knew he had been correct in his speculation. The shinigami was surprised.

"Yes," answered L simply, dutifully ignoring the sharp pain he felt at such a confirmation.

The shinigami remained silent, until finally, "How did he die?"

"He died of a heart attack," answered L, scrutinizing the shinigami's response.

The death god's eyes widened. "You are sure that he is dead?"

"Yes, quite," nodded L.

And L was alarmed to see a horrible, twisted grin split the features of the shinigami, before the thing gave a breathy chuckle, murmuring about someone _finally_ getting bored under her breath.

"I take it you find joy in Raito's death?" growled L, although not wholly surprised that a god of death would find such a thing amusing, he was still angry that anyone could be happy about his friend's death.

"I find no pleasure in Yagami Raito's death, but I find unbelievably pleasure in Kira's."

L froze. "Wh-What did you say?"

The shinigami regarded him cooly. "Kira's death brings me great joy, and now that Yagami Raito is dead, Kira is no more."

That was the last thing L heard before his mind with mercifully blank, and the state of catatonia found him once again.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Okay, short and sweet you guys, **SAY SOMETHING**! (and I freaking loved writing this chapter! XDDD)

GOOD NIGHT PEOPLES! FLUFFY PILLOWS, SOFT WARM BED, HERE I COME!!!!!!


	15. The Kidney That Wasn't

**A/N: **WOW! **I'm over the 500 mark**?!?! Geez, that's amazing! Seriously, that has MADE MY DAY! I never expected this story to hit anywhere NEAR there! Wow! I think I might actually have a shot of hitting 1000! Dude, if I did that, I swears I would have accomplished one of my freaking LIFE GOALS! MAYNE! THAT IS SO FRACKING AWESOME!!!!!

This chapter is dedicated to one of my fabulous reviewers - **Your Kidney**! I kept thinking of her and chuckling as I wrote this chapter. Y'all should see why!

Oh, and I think this chapter came off as a bit sarcastically funny, but it wasn't technically supposed to be funny, but I knew that it would be funny. If that makes any sense!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_The Kidney That Wasn't_

* * *

Once Yagami Soichirou had been informed of his son's stolen body, L was correct in that Soichirou had quite literally organized a witch hunt. Not a week after being told, a rabid Soichirou had not only managed to track down two potential perpetrators, but had managed to track down Raito too.

Or, at least, a _part_ of Raito.

"A kidney?" gasped Matsuda.

"Hospital confirmed it to be Raito's," nodded Mogi.

"What kind of sick fu-" started Aizawa.

"The kind that's not going to see the light of day for decades," confirmed Soichirou harshly. It was apparent that the ordeal was affecting the older man. His usual neat appearence was now unkempt, and it looked as if he hadn't shaved in days.

"A _kidney_?" asked Matsuda once again, his face turning slightly green at the thought.

Aizawa cuffed him on the back of the head before reprimanding the younger detective.

"Have a little respect!"

"I'm sorry! It's just - a kidney?"

"Well you don't have to keep saying it with the chief here! Don't you have any sense at all?" growled Aizawa.

"Oh! Chief! I, erm . . ." trailed off Matsuda, looking desperately at the glaring form of Yagami-san.

L barely paid attention to the argument. In fact, L had barely paid attention to much of anything within the past week. Once Rem had dropped that little tid bit about his best friend onto his lap, she had merrily gone on her way, and while L suspected she would come back in the near future because of her notebook, he couldn't really muster the hope that she'd show up. He'd rather she take her damned notebook and get out of his life once and for all.

It shouldn't have come to such a shock to him, but L was beyond upset. He had known Light was Kira, but when an alternative option had been presented, he had jumped at the other explanation wholeheartedly. Even though he had once accepted that his best friend was a serial killer, it was hard to reaccept it when the truth was confirmed.

And now Raito was dead, the only thing left of him was a kidney, a fucking _kidney_. He couldn't convict a kidney. He couldn't offer a kidney redemption. He couldn't play chess with a kidney. He couldn't be _friends_ with a kidney.

Hell, a kidney wouldn't be able to answer all the questions that L still had, the most prominent one being why Raito, since he _had_ been Kira, had confessed and wanted to be executed when he had somehow learned L's true identity. For all of his skill, L was still stumped. The only thing that made any _reasonable_ sense was that Raito had come to value L's friendship above his own goals as Kira, and ultimately above his own life.

If that truly had been the case, then that just made L hurt all the more, because Raito had forfeited his dreams, his power, and his life for L. What other conclusion could he come to? And how was L supposed to cope with this knowledge in light of Raito's death?

Raito's death was a different matter altogether. If Raito truly had been Kira, as was confirmed by Rem, then how had he died of a heart attack? Could it have been the second Kira? No, because L knew that the second Kira had to have been Amane Misa, and Misa would never kill Raito. Then what had . . .

L suddenly froze in his seat, his heart lurching as a horrible realization made itself known.

Raito died of a heart attack. Kira killed by heart attacks. Raito was Kira. So, Raito had . . . killed himself?

Raito must have had a piece of the notebook on him after all.

L reeled.

The still arguing taskforce quieted when L threw himself out of his chair. With a speed that was unexpected, L rushed to the bathroom, feeling cake and tea bubble angrily in his stomach. The taskforce only looked after L in confusion, shrugging to each other when the slouching figure was out of sight.

* * *

After a few days in a London hotel, Light felt fairly confident about his plan. It was simple. He would search out his relatives and ask them about his parents. What they were like, who their friends were, what they did for a living - that sort of thing. It was a perfectly normal thing for a person who had never known his parents to want to know.

He would investigate all possibilities, everything that would point to an unsavory character hell bent on manipulating Light's life, and hopefully his extended family would know something, anything that might send him in the right direction. If not, then Light would be back to square one. He really hated that square.

The first person he visited lived right there in London. Gregory Layfield was a hard man to track down, and Light had visited the man's apartment twice before, only to find nobody home.

So here he was the third time, thankfully leaving Ryuk back at the hotel with a few apples to keep the shinigami happy and out of his hair. Light nervously wiped his sweaty palms against his brown slacks. Whoever Gregory Layfield was, he had been related to Light's biological father since they shared the same last name. Light had already decided to use his given name - Light Layfield - when introducing himself, if only to avoid confusion if he introduced himself as Yamaguchi Tsuki and then claimed to be a relative.

Light took a steadying breath, like he had twice before while standing in the very same spot, before knocking sharply on the door to the apartment which, hopefully, housed his long lost family member.

He waited a moment, but no one answered. Letting out a sigh, Light turned away from the door.

"Oi, buddy! You need something?" called a voice.

Light whirled around to see a tall, middle aged man with shaggy, dark auburn hair - hair frightfully similar to Light's own off-auburn locks.

"Are you Gregory Layfield?" asked Light.

The man shifted a bag of groceries to his other arm before sticking a key into the apartment door that Light had been knocking on not a moment before.

"That depends. Does 'e owe you money?" asked the man lightly, cutting his eyes to regard Light.

"No," replied Light in confusion.

"Well, then you've found him! Why don't ya step into my humble abode, and you can tell me why yer looking for me, eh?" chuckled the man.

Light gave a stilted chuckle of his own. What an odd man. He wondered how he was related to him.

Light almost slipped his shoes off, before reminding himself he wasn't in Japan anymore.

The man walked into what Light assumed was the kitchen, calling out for him to make himself comfortable. Light gave the living room a once over. Pizza boxes, beer cans, and poker chips littered the floor, and Light immediately made the assumption that his Gregory Layfield was single, a slob, and a gambler just from glancing at the man's messy living room.

Light gingerly sat down in a ratty arm chair, almost afraid that he'd fall straight through the bottom.

"Hey buddy, you want a beer?" called the man.

"Uh, no thank you." replied Light, grimacing when he heard the tell-tale sound of a can being popped open.

Gregory Layfield sauntered back into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch opposite Light, before taking a long draft from his beer. Light took a brief moment to note that the man had several tattoos of nude women on his arms, which were bare as the man was wearing a white wife beater. Light suspected that the man would soon lose his slender look if he continued to down beers at the rate he was going.

"So, what can I do for ya buddy?" asked Gregory.

Light cleared his throat. "Well, Gregory -"

"Greg."

"Greg," amended Light, "I know this is rather sudden, as I've only recently learned that you, well, existed, but I believe we're relatives."

The man snorted. "My whole family's dead, kid. We're not related."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. See, my name's Light Layfield and -"

The other man suddenly threw his beer can against the wall, standing up with his fists clenched.

"You are not Light Layfield. Light Layfield is dead."

Light blinked, reeling back from the man's sudden anger. "Look, I don't know how to prove it to you, but I _am_ Light Layfield."

"If you were Light Layfield, then where have you been, huh? Do you expect me to believe that Charlie and Ai are alive too? Who the fuck put you up to this, you sick son of a -"

"Hey! I don't know what you're talking about! My parents were murdered when I was a baby! I don't why you don't know about me, or why I was shipped off to an orphanage if I had family out there, but I was and I'm alive!" yelled Light defensively.

Gregory glared at him, crossing his arms.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"I don't know how!" exclaimed Light.

"Show me yer birthmark," demanded the man.

Light's jaw slackened. "What?!"

"Yer birthmark. Light Layfield had a very distinguishing birthmark. If you really are him, then ya'd know exactly what I'm talking 'bout, wouldn't ya? Otherwise, yer just a dirty rotten liar," said the man with a triumphant smirk, obviously believing that Light hadn't a clue about what he was talking about.

Oh, but Light did have a clue. If there was any doubt in his mind that he was related to the man in front of him, it went directly out the window with Greg's knowing question.

"Is there any other way -"

"No. I won't believe ya otherwise," said the man firmly.

"Fine," gritted Light, trying to hold his own temper in check.

To his credit, Light barely hesitated before pulling his pants partially down, letting the man get a good look at the birthmark he had on his rear end. It wasn't very big, but it was shaped almost like a some sort of inverted triangle. The last person who had ever seen it was Lawli in the orphanage, and Sachiko once by accident. Light wasn't necessarily embarrassed by it, but it wasn't something he wanted to advertise, as he was quite clearly doing at the moment.

"_Bloody fucking hell_."

Greg sat down hard, and once Light was certain that the man had gotten a good look, he'd quickly pulled his pants back up, thoroughly embarrassed. It was an awkward silence that filled the air as Greg stared at him in shock.

"Light?" the man whispered in disbelief.

Light didn't know what else to do but nod somewhat hesitantly, almost afraid the man would ask for a second look.

Suddenly the man was threw himself at Light, grabbing him in a bone crushing hug.

"LIGHT! YER ALIVE! _YER ALIVE_!" Greg shouted, directly in Light's ear, and danced him around.

Suddenly, Light felt himself being pushed back into the ratty armchair.

"Bloody 'ell! Ya don't even know who I am, do ya?" asked Greg, eyes wide.

"Erm, no?" tried Light, who was feeling extremely violated.

"I'm yer Uncle Greg! I used to baby-sit ya!" exclaimed the man.

Light gave Greg a doubtful look. "You don't look like you could have been old enough to baby sit me."

The man waved his hand. "Oh, I was fourteen, plenty old enough. Damn, Light! I thought ya was dead! Ya say you was sent to an orphanage?"

"Yes," answered Light warily, expecting the other man to pounce on him any second.

"I can't believe yer alive! Me and Charlie didn't 'ave the same dad, ya see, and since our mom died, I was living with me dad when Charlie was killed. Me and dad were living in America at the time, so I guess it just didn't get back to us that ya was alive. My little nephew is alive!" said the man in a gushing rush, the last part said mostly to himself in awe.

Light didn't really know what to say, so he just nodded dumbly at the beaming man.

"Where have ya _been_ all this time, Light?" asked Greg, turning his full attention back to Light.

Light sat up a bit straighter at the question.

"Well, I was adopted when I was ten, and then my adoptive parents took me to live with them in Japan," explained Light.

"Japan? Ha! That's ironic! Yer mother was Japanese," said Greg.

Light nodded. "Yeah, I figured as much. It's pretty obvious that I've got some Asian in me, and her name gave it away."

"So what are ya doing 'ere at my apartment? Why aren't ya in Japan?" asked Greg, an honest expression of confusion marring his rugged face.

"Well, my adopted father knew I've always wanted to learn more about my real parents, so he tracked down the names and addresses of relatives for me. I jumped on a plane, and, long story short, here I am," explained Light. There was no way in hell he'd go any farther than that just yet.

"So ya just came back to England after all these years to reconnect with family?" asked Greg.

Light nodded, and Greg continued to beam at him.

"Well, I'm the only relative you have that _I_ know of. I guess whoever else's name ya 'ave is related to yer mother. I think she had a sister or something," said Greg, once again throwing himself back down onto the sofa.

"I've only got two other names. Yumi Thomas and Roger Ruvie."

"Yumi, huh? That sounds 'bout right. Probably is yer mom's sister. I don't know who that Roger Ruvie bloke is though. Guess you'll have to ask him yourself, huh? So where does Yumi live?"

"Oh, Scotland. I was going to visit her last. Roger lives in Winchester," replied Light, feeling more at ease now with the conversation. He had always been more comfortable when he was spinning a web of lies. It was one of his quirks. Honesty had always set him on edge, but this - Light felt like he was finally regaining his equilibrium.

"Winchester? That's a lot closer than Scotland. So where are ya staying, Light? A hotel?" asked Greg.

"Yeah, it's about twenty minutes from -"

"Because ya 'ave to stay with me! I won't take no for an answer!" interrupted Greg, an excited gleam in his eye.

"I wouldn't want to impose -"

"Bloody right you don't want to! Ya better forget all about those ruddy Japanese manners while yer in England! Yer family, Light! It's your God given right to impose on my hospitality and generally make a damn bloody nuisance of yerself!" once again interrupted Greg.

Well, if he was going to find out what he wanted to know, it might not hurt to stay with Greg for awhile. Light couldn't deny that he wanted to get to know his father's brother either, who so far had proven to be a very interesting, if undeniably somewhat annoying, character. If only it wasn't so -

"Shit! Was that a rat?" asked Light, jumping in shock when he saw something gray dart into the kitchen.

"What? 'Course not!" exclaimed Greg, although he wasn't trying to be very convincing

Light groaned, knowing he would probably regret it. "Fine, I'll stay."

"Brilliant! We're celebrating tonight at the pub! Drinks on me!"

"Sounds like fun," grimaced Light.

What the had he just gotten himself into?

* * *

Watari was worried. L had been unusually quiet the past couple of days since the conclusion of the case. The two men who had stolen Raito's body were already convicted and in jail. Raito's kidney, the only piece of the boy that had been recovered, was reburied.

Watari expected L to turn his full focus back onto the Kira case, and yet all L did was stare listlessly out of the window more often than he looked at his laptop. However, the thing that truly worried Watari was L's refusal of strawberry cheesecake. His ward hadn't had a piece in over four days now.

L had given the taskforce another week off, considering the past week had been busy with finding Raito's body. There were a few days yet until the taskforce returned, but if the killings started up again, it was agreed that everyone would come in immediately regardless if the week was up or not.

And so Watari found himself yet again trying to convince L to eat a piece of cheesecake.

"No thank you, Watari," murmured L, his knees held tightly against his chest. The young man's dark eyes studied the horizon with a listless fascination.

"L, why don't you take a look at the Kira case again?" asked Watari, hoping that work would distract L from what was obviously bothering him.

If Watari hadn't known his charge for so long, he would have missed the slight wince at the mention of the Kira case.

"That will not be necessary, Watari," said L, his eyes never leaving the city landscape.

"And why's that?" inquired Watari with a lift of his eyebrows.

L sighed. "The Kira case is solved. There will be no more killings."

Watari started. "What are you talking about?"

"The shinigami informed me that Kira is dead," said L, his voice monotone as usual.

"Kira is dead? How did he die?" asked Watari in shock.

"He committed suicide," said L, his voice tightening with repressed emotion.

This only confused Watari. Was L upset? Kira's death, no matter how it came about, was a good thing. Maybe his charge was upset that he had never got to bring Kira to justice. After all, L had been furious when Kira had killed Raito.

"Did the shinigami know why?" asked Watari.

L hesitated, "No."

"Well, what are we still doing here then? Why haven't you told the taskforce? Are we waiting to see if the shinigami speaks the truth? And what about the second Kira?" asked Watari, truly confused at the detective's actions.

"No, I know the shinigami was truthful, and I doubt that the second Kira will give us any trouble now that the first one is dead. As for the taskforce? I am unsure how to tell them . . ." trailed of L, bringing his thumb to his mouth.

"It shouldn't be too difficult, L," prompted Watari gently.

L shook his head. "But it is, Watari. Perhaps we could leave tomorrow. You could visit the station and inform them that the case is solved, and Kira is no more."

"Do you honestly expect the team to be happy with that? No explanation? No goodbyes?" asked Watari.

L shook his head. "No, I do not, but I am tired of this case and this country. I am ready to leave. There is no reason for my continuing presence."

Watari sighed. "I'll make the arrangements. Where do you suggest we go?"

L shrugged lightly. "I do not care, just as long as it is far from here."

"You haven't chosen a successor yet, L. I would suspect that after a difficult case such as this, it would be prudent to make your decision soon. Next case we might not be so lucky," reminded Watari.

"It is hard to choose between the two. They would work well together, if only they could manage to get along," mused L.

"You've never even met them. Perhaps it would help if you were to meet with them personally?" asked Watari.

L seemed to think it over, his teeth nibbling thoughtfully on his thumb.

"I don't want to travel straight to the orphanage. I need a few weeks to recover from - all of this," finally stated L.

"That seems the best choice. I'll make the arrangements for us to leave, and then I'll contact the taskforce."

"Thank you, Watari," murmured L, before turning his attention back to the horizon.

Watari hesitated before leaving, wanting to say something that would make the dead, haunted look in his ward's eyes go away, but he was at a loss for words.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Yeaaaah, sorry about Light's ass everybody, but I just really wanted to put that in, and I figured, oh why the hell not!

Oh, yay me for finally not giving you some sort of cliffie!

Okay, I usually try to stay away from OCs because I'm never sure about their characterization, but tell me what y'all think of Greg! I kind of like him!

**SAY SOMETHING YOU AWESOME PEOPLE YOU!**


	16. Not My Definition of Fun

**A/N: **Hey there you guys! I'm back! Again! I feel bad about not updating yesterday, but right when I was afraid people would think I didn't have a life, BAM! Life [and a few people] dragged me out of the house and away from my laptop to the Strawberry Festival, which if your ever in West Tennesse in the spring, you should check out! Very fun for one of those small [SMALL!] town parades!

I like this chapter. Everyone's comments about rats and kidneys really inspired me, and this chapter is pretty light hearted . . . until the end. BWAHAHA! Then my bad habits start showing again.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Not My Definition of Fun_

* * *

"_Light, I cannot find the sugar bowl. Could you please find me the sugar for me?" asked Lawli._

_Light smiled brilliantly at his best friend. "Sure, Lawli."_

"_Thanks, Light. I'm happy when you give me sugar. You're very good at it," said Lawli, holding up a tea cup the size of a basketball for emphasis._

_Light blushed, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he was so flattered by the strange compliment._

"_Yeah, yeah, Lawli," muttered Light, avoiding the other's penetrating gaze._

_Light stood up from the small table, frowning when he couldn't find his way to the kitchen. He walked away from the staring detective, not noticing as the table and detective got smaller and smaller the farther he walked. _

_After Light passed a third dairy farm, he looked around. Where was the kitchen? _

_He looked down. Where was his pants? _

_He looked up. Where was the ceiling? _

_He shook his head, smiling a bit to himself._

_The sugar must be in the bathroom then. That was the only other logical place to keep it, after all._

"_Yous needs to 'ave another drank, Lightie!" slurred a voice from behind him._

_Light turned, confused, only to reel back in horror at the thing that stood behind him._

"_Yer not drunk 'nough yet!" exclaimed a large, scruffy looking rat with bent whiskers, a cowboy hat, and one lone golden tooth dripping with what could have been blood. _

_The rat towered over Light, it's eyes a manic yellow. The thing held an especially large shot glass full of amber liquid that sloshed out whenever the monstrous rat overcompensated because of its dramatic swaying. _

_The rat grinned at him, shoving the drink into his face. "'Ere ya go!"_

Light screamed.

"Bloody 'ell, stop screaming in m' ear!"

Light's eyes snapped open, and he immediately regretted it. He slammed his eyes closed with a dull groan.

"First hang over?" asked a disgustingly cheery voice somewhere to the side of him.

Light grunted.

The voice, who Light successfully identified as Greg, just laughed. Light cracked his eyes open when he felt the bed shift, only to yelp in horror.

"Why the fuck are you naked?!" he yelled, immediately regretting it when his headache worsened.

Greg shrugged, seeming for all the world not to even notice his nudity. "Vice is nice, but incest is best."

It took all of a second for those words to sink in to Light's pounding head. "_WHAT_?!"

Greg was silent for a moment, looking down at a horrified Light with a hurt expression, before it suddenly mutated into a maniacal grin.

"Oh ho! Ya should 'ave seen the look on ya face, Lightie!" cackled his very naked uncle, bent over and slapping his knee hard.

Light, ignoring the degrading nickname, checked to make sure his clothes were securely covering his body before sitting up in relief.

"You bastard! You can't just make up stuff like that!" yelled Light, his anger being fuelled by the throbbing pain in his head.

Greg shrugged. "Ya need to learn how to take a joke. Yer surprisingly uptight for a Layfield, Lightie."

"Ugh, why do I feel like someone beat the shit out of me?" asked Light, clutching his head and ignoring his annoying relative. Light didn't know how he could possibly be related to someone as annoying as Greg Layfield.

"Yer experiencing a hangover, Lightie. S'not all that bad, once ya get used to it, and if I 'ave my way with you -" here Greg stopped to cackle at his distastefully bad joke, "- then you'll definitely be getting used to it."

Light groaned, falling back into the bed. "What happened anyway? Everything's fuzzy and -"

He seemed to realize that his grinning uncle was still naked. "-and why the hell are you naked? How did I end up in your bed, and -"

Light felt his stomach lurch. "Oh, God. I think I'm going to be -"

Greg jumped back from the bed, a grimace marring his face as Light proceeded to purge the previous nights activities all across the floor.

"Well _I'm_ not cleaning that shit up," remarked his uncle, crossing his tattooed arms.

Light gave him a muted glared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Suddenly his uncle grinned, and Light wasn't surprised to see that is was a vicious grin. "To answer yer questions, tequila happened. So did whiskey, beer, and vodka. I was born naked, and I'm not to sure m'self why yer in my bed when I went to all the trouble of putting new sheets in the guest bedroom."

Light seriously doubted those sheets were clean anyway, and he refused to grace his uncle with a verbal response. Instead, Light let his smoldering look do the talking.

"Y'know, the only way to get rid of a hangover is to drink yer self sober," said Greg knowingly.

"Bullshit," growled Light in disbelief.

The man only chuckled. "Ya don't believe me, huh? Well, when ya change yer mind, I'll be in the living room. See, Manchester's playing, and I ain't going to miss it. I got fifty pounds riding on the ruddy thing."

Greg left the room, still distressingly without clothes.

Light closed his eyes briefly, before valiantly lifting himself out of the bed. He deftly stepped aside the yellowish puddle and stumbled to the bathroom. His head pounded at the higher elevation, and his body protested at the movement, sore and bruised feeling.

Light decided that he looked worse than he felt once he saw himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was in disarray, and slightly greasy. His clothes were rumpled, and gave off a faint smoky smell. His face was pallid, and dark circles ringed his eyes, vaguely reminiscent of someone he decidedly did not want to think about just then.

He took a steady breath before opening the medicine cabinet. Luckily, his uncle kept pain reliever, along with a dozen or so other pill bottles that Light really didn't want to know the contents of. He washed his mouth out before swallowing the medicine.

Light glanced ruefully through the door at the mess by the bed, before doing a classic double take.

"_What the hell_?!" he yelled, jumping in shock, and catching himself on the sink before he could tumble to the ground.

Not a second later, a still very naked Greg burst into the bedroom.

"What? What's the matter?" he asked, his words jumbling out in a rush.

"Th-there was a _rat_! Eating my . . ." trailed off Light, his hands making exaggerated movements, unsure how to voice the scene he had just witnessed.

"Huh?" asked Greg, cocking an eyebrow, his hands on his bony hips.

"You _do_ have rats, don't you!" accused Light, finally finding his voice.

"What? 'Course not!"

"But -"

"Yer still just a bit out of it from last night, yeah? See, I'll get ya a beer. We'll have ya fixed up in no time," said Greg soothingly, patting Light roughly on the shoulder before walking back out to the living room.

Light blinked and shook his head, once again staring at the mess by the bed, but whatever had been there was gone.

Maybe he was still drunk. Light wasn't sure. The only other experience he'd ever had with alcohol was as a freshman in high school, and even then he had only tried it with a friend before deciding that sake wasn't to his liking. He hadn't had nearly enough to get drunk.

Light sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair. Maybe if he took a shower he'd feel better.

Twenty minutes later, a clean Light was cleaning up a decidedly unclean bedroom floor, and it was all he could do not to repeat the morning's incident at the sight and smell. In fact, he was so preoccupied, that he didn't know that Greg had come back into the room until the man spoke.

"'Bout finished yet?" asked the man.

Light jumped in surprise, turning to face the other man. "Don't _do_ tha -"

Light, who had been kneeling on the floor cleaning his mess, stopped short when faced with a still naked Greg standing behind him. Except this time, Light was face to face with something other than Greg's face.

"_Gah_!" Light made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before looking away quickly.

Greg took a swig from his beer. "Yer a mighty jumpy bloke, ain't ya? Must get it from yer mum's side, eh?"

Light refused to comment, and steadfastly cleaned the rest of the floor, sneaking glances underneath the darkened bed for any critters that might attack him.

Greg chuckled lowly before heading back into the living room.

Truthfully, all Light wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep the day away, but he figured coffee might help him with his hangover, despite Greg's claims that beer would do wonders. The thought of drinking anything with alcohol in it made him want to vomit all over again.

Light made his way into the kitchen, ignoring the naked man sprawled on the couch drinking beer and watching a pathetically small television with bad reception. He opened the pantry, hoping that his uncle had the decency to at least have coffee in his kitchen.

However, he jerked his hand back after he encountered black pellets littering the shelves of the pantry. Was that . . . ?

"Is this _rat_ shit?" yelled Light, surprised and disgusted.

"What? 'Course not!"

"_Greg_ -"

"It's raisins! I'm a messy eater!" yelled the man.

Light's eye twitched. He wasn't feeling up to anything that the man had to offer him from his kitchen anymore, what with the _raisins _and all. With a resigned sigh, Light plopped himself down in the ratty armchair, only glancing at the other man when Greg sighed in satisfaction after scratching himself.

"I'm dead serious, Lightie. Grab yerself a beer. You'll feel loads better," said Greg, his eyes glued to the television.

"No, thanks," said Light coolly, trying to ignore the aggravating nickname that his uncle had given him sometime within the last night.

Greg shrugged. "Well, don't let it be said that I didn't try to help ya."

Light ignored him, looking down at the coffee table that lay broken in half, all the junk that had been on there before lay littering the floor. Obviously Greg didn't care enough to pick the stuff up.

"What happened there?" asked Light, gesturing to the broken furniture.

Greg grunted. "Ya fell on it."

"I fell on it? But, I don't remember that," frowned Light.

"Well, I 'spect there's a lot ya don't remember 'bout last night," smirked Greg.

Light glared, but didn't reply, instead he turned his attention to the flickering images on the television. He wanted to ask Greg questions about his parents, but he really didn't feel up to it. He wasn't at his best, and he wouldn't be able to really concentrate on the answers, so Light gave in to the pounding headache and general sick feeling, and just stared mindlessly at the television in misery.

"I got fifty pounds riding on this ya know," commented Greg.

Light rolled his head, too tired to actually put the effort into lifting it, to glare at the naked man.

Greg just smiled. "Oi, Light. You ever been to a club where people wee on each other?"

Light's head snapped up, and he ignored the stabbing pain it caused. "_Excuse me_?"

Greg laughed. "Guess not."

"Why the hell would I want to go somewhere like -"

"Just keep yer schedule clear, yeah?" said Greg, a decidedly evil grin splitting his face.

Light narrowed his eyes. "You're joking."

"Aye, I'm pulling yer leg. You really do need to learn how to take a joke."

* * *

When L made the call down to room service, he hadn't expected anything untoward to happen. He really hadn't expected to slam down the receiver in a bout of unexpected anger, nor did he expect Watari to quietly leave the room before returning half an hour later with a bucket sized container of ice cream.

L chewed his thumb violently as he thought back to the phone call.

_"Room service?"_

_"Yes, what are your specials this evening?" murmured L._

_"Well, we have a lovely grilled chicken fillet on a bed of rice pilaf with a side salad. We also have fresh steak and _kidney_ pie -"_

_And that was as far as the lady got before L slammed the phone down._

Now, he was glaring at his ice cream while Watari made a show of tidying up the living room of their suite.

"I find that I am not amiable to staying in this particular hotel any longer," said L around a mouthful of strawberry ice cream.

Watari shot L a look. "That's why we're checking out in the morning and going to the Waldorf across town."

L nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Watari."

"Not a problem, L."

* * *

If living with Gregory Layfield for a week taught anything to Light, it was that you weren't obligated to like your family. Yes, he could admit a grudging fondness for the perpetually drunk and oftentimes naked gambler, but that probably stemmed from Greg being his father's little brother than anything else.

If Greg wasn't trying to take him back out to a pub or the horse track for a friendly wager, then he was "at work." Of course, he wouldn't actually tell Light what he did. Somehow, someway, Greg would find a way to turn any needling questions away, too often leading the discussion back to where he wanted it to go. In this, Light finally found a familial trait they both shared besides the similar hair color.

After a week of living with the man, Light had found out surprisingly little about his family. Apparently his father had been in the military, where he had met Light's mother. Not surprisingly, Greg hadn't known exactly what branch they had worked in, but he mentioned something along the lines of Light's father never speaking about his work. Greg being as young as he had been, didn't question his brother's lack of information.

The only concrete piece of information that Light had to work with was that Light's father and mother traveled regularly, never staying in the same spot for more than a month, and that Light's father had been friendly with the prime minister.

On a more personal note, Light's father had been a master poker player and his mother was a horrible cook. And while both his parents had been intelligent, it was Light's mother who had graduated college at seventeen. His father, as Greg said was common to Layfield's, had been more of a slacker, but had still graduated at the top of his class from one of England's most prestigious universities.

When asked about their murder, Greg hadn't known much. He had just moved to America to live with his father before it happened. He only knew that Light's parents, and he had assumed Light also, were murdered at their flat in London. Speculation was that the serial killer who was loose at the time, called Fortune, killed the family. It had fit with the man's profiled victims. However, nothing was ever proven, and the case was still unsolved to this day.

Light sighed, trying to piece together all the information he had gleaned over the past week. What little of the picture he could see didn't tell him much, and he figured that he would have to seek out his other relatives. Hopefully they could give him pieces to add to his puzzle.

Light settled deeper into the ratty armchair, which he had grown fond of over the past week. Greg was currently at work, whatever that was, and Light was flipping through the channels on the shoddy, old television. It was late, and the only thing on was infomercials.

He stopped his channel surfing at one infomercial featuring cookware. The smiling lady on the telly was showing how the special cookware made baking so much easier and faster than regular bake ware. Light's heart gave a painful twinge when he saw the lady pull out a cheesecake.

He had been trying not to think about Lawli. It was better if he just forgot about him, and Light was certainly making the effort. He avoided all reminders of his friend if possible - it just hurt too much - and that was why Light quickly turned the channel.

Of course, the next channel _had_ to feature an endangered species commercial. A panda bear blinked innocently at him through the television.

Light viciously punched the remote, and the channel changed to a crappy late night movie on some channel geared towards women.

Ryuk glided through the apartment wall, chuckling to himself. Light was thankful for the distraction.

The shinigami had been unusually agreeable lately. Apparently, Ryuk had been remarkably bored without Light's presence. Of course, the apples that Light provided didn't hurt in keeping the shinigami agreeable or Light in Ryuk's good graces.

Light didn't pay much attention to Ryuk as he went back to idly flipping through the channels.

"We're about to have some fun," remarked the shinigami.

Light looked over his shoulder, noting the devilish grin splitting Ryuk's face.

Light lifted an eyebrow. "What kind of fun?"

Ryuk only chuckled. "You'll see."

Light glared, feeling his temper flare. "Ryuk-"

And then the door was kicked open.

Light jumped up from his seat, almost tripping over the blanket his legs were tangled in.

"LAYFIELD! You owe me money!" yelled a large man who was flanked on either side by two equally unsavory looking companions.

Light felt his throat constrict and his mind go numb as he stared down the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Sorry you guys. Cliffhangers are MY definition of fun. XD

And I take all the drinking related info from my own life. Yes, it is possible to drink yourself out of a hangover. I've done it before, and it really works! [hair of the dog that bit you and all] If you mix beer and hard liquor, usually the effects aren't pretty, and you end up not remembering a whole bunch of the previous night [especially with tequila. I can't drink that shit anymore!] Don't mix sugar, beer, and liquor either. Thaaaat's a bad idea. I've also fallen and broken a coffee table in a fit of drunken stupidity, which I decided to incorporate, lol. Anyway, if you're gonna drink, do it with people you trust and be prepared to face the consequences the next morning!

Soooo, **SAY SOMETHING**! [what's your definition of fun, huh? LOL!]


	17. Red and Shades of Grey

**A/N: **Oh my God. I feel like the biggest bitch in existence. There I was last chapter, worrying that people would think I was sans life if I updated twice in one day, and then I disappear for two weeks! Damn! I really wouldn't be surprised if people just gave up on me altogether.

Buuut, if you haven't, I'M SORRY! THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME! AND I'M TOTALLY BACK!

Okay, so, I'm actually sittng at a picnic table on the back deck of the Sandpiper Beacon Resort in Panama City, FL. (look it up, it's pretty badass!) Next to the loud and noisy Tiki Bar, but really, there is no internet anywhere else. The beach is literally two feet behind me, and the ocean another thirty beyond that. I can hear it right now! And ugh, I've been gone from home for two weeks! THAT'S WHY I HAVEN'T UPDATED!!! The first week involved an unexpected and impromptu trip to Chattanooga, TN to see a college buddy, and then when I got home, I left for Panama City, quite literally, just a few hours later! I CAN'T WAIT TO BE HOME! I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and over the past two weeks of craziness, I've been working on this chapter when I can. But seriously, I'm sorry you guys! I'll be home tomorrow, and then my life won't be so hectic again. YAY BORING!

Oh, and I got my nose pierced, rescued a kitten, and had a gigantic wave push me over and choke me to the point where I vomitted in the ocean. How embarrassing! And then my piercing started bleeding, and I jumped out before Jaws got me. Gack.

Le Sigh.

I digress! Here's what y'all have been waiting for!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Red and Shades of Grey_

* * *

"Where's my money, Lay - Wait a second, you ain't Layfield! Who the _fuck_ are you?" demanded the man.

The two other men made a point of closing the door to the apartment, more than likely to discourage any of the neighbors from calling law enforcement.

"I - I -" stuttered Light, his eyes never leaving the gun. Icy fear gripped him, and for a moment Light felt as if he was being threatened by his father once again.

The man growled. "You tell that bloody little shi-"

"Tell me what?"

All eyes went to Greg, who was standing behind the three threatening figures.

"Shit! Where did you come from?" yelled one of the thugs, jumping at Greg's sudden appearance.

Greg shrugged. "The front door. Hey there Vince. How ya been?"

The large man with the gun growled. "I been wondering where my money is, Layfield. You were supposed to pay me a month ago."

Greg scratched the back of his head in mock embarrassment. "Ah, yeah, 'bout that. See, I need a bit more time -"

"How much more time, Layfield?" asked Vince, shoving the gun in Greg's face.

Greg moved his head, looking around the gun at the thug on the other end. "Well, probably 'bout another week or so."

"That's not good enough!" growled Vince.

Greg's lip quirked in a smile. "Well, that's when me money's coming in. I can't be of much use to ya in the meantimes."

"That's too bad, Layfield, because I need you to come up with my money now. Otherwise -" the man trailed off, bringing the gun back to Light's face and cocking it. " - Your little boy toy here will have to pay it for you."

Greg started, losing his casual demeanor. "Now wait just a bloody minute! 'E's got nothin' to do with all this!"

Light swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the cocked gun pointed at his face and his uncle.

"You're right. He's just in the wrong place at the wrong time," agreed Vince, putting the slightest of pressures on the trigger. Light's breathe caught.

Ryuk started laughing uproariously, and if Light didn't suspect that the slightest movement on his part would spur the man holding the gun into action, he would have turned and glared at the laughing specter.

Greg looked helplessly between the gun and Light, and Light could see the man's fists clenching in anger. Light's own stomach clenched, but in fear. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this one.

Greg gritted his teeth. "This is between me and you, Vince. If ya got a problem with me, then take it up with me, but leave the kid out of it."

Vince chuckled. "No can do, Layfield. Either you come up with my money real fast, or this kid's brains are gonna be decorating your walls."

Light grew cold, his ragged breath catching once again. He didn't doubt that the man really would pull the trigger, if only for his own sick amusement. Light glanced sideways at Ryuk, who was grinning wildly. It was obvious that the shinigami wouldn't be of any help, and Greg was surrounded on either side by the two other thugs. It didn't look like he'd be able to do anything either before Vince could shoot Light's face off.

"I can get you yer money tonight," growled Greg, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Vince smirked. "Oh can you now? Well, how about a deal then? You like deals, don't you? And games, I know you like those."

Vince, keeping the gun pointed at Light's face, took his other hand and reached into his coat pocket, bringing out a wicked long switch blade. He brought the blade to Light's cheek.

"I'll let you walk out of here to find me my money, but for every minute you're gone, I'll make a cut on pretty boy's face. Let's see how long it takes you before your boy toy's face is nothing but a bloodied clump. If your gone too long, I'll slit his throat and put a price on your head so big every two bit criminal from here to Germany will be after your ass," threatened Vince.

To emphasis his point, Vince dragged the knife across Light's cheek, leaving behind a long slash from the top of Light's cheek bone to his chin.

Light gasped in pain. The cut stung, and blood flowed freely down his face, dripping onto the collar of his shirt.

Vince brought the bloodied knife to his face, making a show of it by lightly licking away the blood from the tip of the knife.

"Deal?" grinned the man, his jagged teeth gleaming ruby.

The two men stared at each other in a silent battle of wills, each wondering who would say the first words or make the first move.

Light felt a sudden, dark twinge of anger at the unfairness of his situation. He didn't want to die at the hands of some lunatic after all he had survived through, all the sacrifices he had made. If only he had the -

He stopped that trail of thought immediately.

Light would never write in the notebook again. The risk of Kira gaining control was too great, and even his own life wasn't worth taking that chance.

Besides, he consoled himself with the fact that it wouldn't work anyhow. He didn't know Vince's full name, and the Death Note was wrapped in an old t-shirt and shoved at the bottom of his duffle in the guest bedroom. Any temptation he might face was pointless when faced with these facts.

Light felt the tension in the room heighten when Greg tensed, as if preparing himself. The two men moved slightly closer to his uncle in anticipation, and Vince drew the gun closer to Light's head, making him wince at the proximity.

Light drew a deep, silent breath, trying to shake away the panic that threatened to drown him. If only the gun wasn't pointed directly at his face, then maybe he could think clearly, find some way out of this predicament. If only his cheek didn't sting so badly, and his head wasn't so muddled. He was sure he figure out a way, and if only that damned gun -

And then all hell broke loose.

Greg launched himself at the gun, which twisted this way and that as Greg tried to wrestle it away from Vince. Light fell back, throwing himself behind the chair and out of the path of the gun. The two thugs moved to jump Greg from behind, but the front door was kicked open, and two resounding bangs had the men on the ground and bleeding.

Another bang and Vince was on the ground, blood oozing from a hole in his head. Light stared around the chair in numb disbelief at the corpse, distantly recognizing that splatters of blood, bone, and brain matter dotted the floor and walls.

Light heard a groan, and he snapped his head around to see who had made the noise. It was one of the men who had accompanied Vince. The man was clutching at a bleeding wound in his shoulder and gasping in pain.

Greg and the strange man turned simultaneously to the man, and Greg raised Vince's gun.

Light started, his arm stretching out to stop Greg. "No, don't -!"

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Light stared at the bleeding stump where the man's head had been, before slowly bringing his hand up to touch the splattered blood on his face that had sprayed him when the man's head was shot. The blood intermingled with his own wound to the point where Light wasn't sure who's blood was who's. His stomach rolled, and he choked, hastily wiping at the blood with the back of his hand and ignoring the painful twinges of the cut on his cheek.

Light looked down at his shirt. It was dotted with blood.

"Oh God . . ." whispered Light in horror, staring down at himself.

Greg took heaving breaths, the gun clenched in his hand as he glared at the bodies sprawled on the floor and the growing red puddle of blood seeping into the carpet and splattered on the walls.

"I'll never get tha' stain out," he grunted, wiping his brow.

"Probably not," agreed the man who had kicked the door open.

"Alright there?" asked Greg, looking at Light with honest concern, his eyes roving Light up and down in worry.

Light just stared at him, as if truly seeing the man for the first time, and deftly ignored his own state. This was no slob, no gambling drunk and perpetually naked prankster. No, Light was looking into the eyes of a killer. He was looking at someone who he had once dedicated his life to destroy. He was looking at his uncle - the man who had saved his life by taking the lives of others.

And his uncle looked the same as he ever did, if not a bit more angry than usual.

Light shook his head, feeling shaken and sick. "Y-Yeah. I'm fine."

He was anything but.

"Finally got rid of that nasty arsehole, huh?" grinned the mysterious man, who Light just remembered was still there.

Light took the other man in, noting his dark hair and tanned skin. The man had a gun clenched in his hand too, but instead of glaring at the bloody corpses like Greg was, he was regarding them with an almost smug satisfaction.

Greg grunted, satisfied that Light was fine for the moment. "Perfect timing as usual, Toledo. Ya could have gotten here sooner, though."

"Yeah, probably," agreed the man named Toledo, twirling his gun like some sort of American cowboy.

"Triple homicide. This'll bring 'em snooping, won't it? Best to get out of here then. I 'spect you got a place to go?" asked Greg.

Toledo nodded. "Yeah, 'course I do. I always do. And you owe me for saving your pathetic arse - again."

Greg sighed. "I'll buy ya a lap dance and a round of beer. Fair enough?"

Toledo chuckled. "Make that _two_ lap dances, and I'll call us even."

"Bloody right. Fine, have it yer way. Now get out of here, ya bloody fool," growled Greg.

The man gave Greg a mock salute. "Aye, captain. See you topside!"

Light stared after the strange man, who shut the door firmly in his wake.

"Wh-What the hell just happened?" Light asked, too numb to really process the events of the past few minutes.

Greg sighed. "I was hoping to keep ya out of any of this, Light. But it looks like we'll have to cut our visit short, yeah?"

Light was about to respond, but the wail of sirens in the distant made him forget what he was about to say.

"Bloody _fucking_ hell! Buggers are fast, yeah? Quick, grab yer shit!" yelled Greg, shoving Light towards the bedroom that he had been staying in.

Light stumbled, before catching himself on the doorframe. Pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going, otherwise he was sure he'd be a quivering mass huddled somewhere dark. He was fairly sure that any question of him developing a phobia of guns was moot - it was well and fully developed. He might even add knives to the list at this point.

Light shoved what he could into his duffle bag.

"_Hurry up_!" called his uncle.

Light frantically looked around the room, trying to make sure that he had everything, but Greg burst into the room and grabbed him by his upper arm, dragging him away.

"There's no time! If ya want to wait around and explain to those buggers why there's three dead men in the living room, then by all means, stay, but otherwise get yer arse moving!"

Greg pushed Light out of the apartment, but not before checking down the hall to see if anyone was around.

"Take the stairs, and meet me in the alley behind the building," Greg whispered.

"What are you going to do?" asked Light.

"I need to grab something, now go!" said Greg, pushing Light towards the exit sign at the end of the hallway.

Light adjusted his duffle, and shakily jogged the distance, pushing the door open roughly, practically falling down the stairs in his haste to leave the scene behind. The last thing he needed was to be taken into custody as an accessory to murder, not when he himself was supposed to be dead.

Light threw himself out the back door at the very bottom of the stairwell, and sure enough he was in an alley. A cat darted behind a trashcan in surprise at Light's abrupt entrance. He leaned against the wall, letting his head hit the rough bricks, and took gasping breaths to steady himself.

The sirens were getting closer, maybe only a few blocks away now. Light started when the back door slammed open, but was relieved to see Greg's red and sweaty face.

"Here, take this!" Greg shoved a small black bag into his hands.

"What-?" started Light, afraid of what it might contain.

"It was from yer dad. He gave it to me to keep safe. I don't know what or who from, but if anyone can figure it out, I reckon it's you," explained Greg, his words rushed.

"But-"

"I don't have many friends, Light, and the guy who saved us isn't one of them. If he knows yer face, then yer in trouble just like me. So get outta here! And don't come looking for me. Go to yer other relative, the one in England. I'll find ya when it's safe, yeah? Now go!" said Greg, pushing Light towards the mouth of the alley.

Light stumbled, took one last look at his uncle's pleading face, and nodded, running out into the night with a small black bag held tightly against his chest.

* * *

"We were contacted about another case," said Watari, pouring tea into the fine bone china cup belonging to a set that L was particularly fond of these days.

"Hmm, I'm sure. You know I am not interested in anything at the moment Watari. I am on holiday," murmured L, blowing softly on the tea to cool it.

Watari nodded. "Amazingly enough. I don't believe you've ever taken a holiday before, L."

"First time for everything," remarked L, turning the page of his book. Watari tried to peek at the title, but he couldn't make it out. It was written in Arabic.

"I really think you should take a look at this one, though," said Watari, gulping slightly.

"Hmm, no, I do not believe I will," said L casually.

"But - I just really think this case might interest you a great deal," continued Watari, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers.

L blinked his dark eyes, noticing Watari's strange behavior. "Watari? Are you 'beating around the bush,' as they call it?"

Watari blinked. "Erm, how very astute of you, L. Yes, I believe that is what I am doing."

L quirked his head. "This is unlike you. Something has you nervous about this case you persist in bringing up."

It wasn't a question, and Watari knew that as well as L did. The older man nodded.

L sighed. "What is it that is causing you to be so flighty, Watari?"

"There was a triple homicide on the other end of town last night," began Watari, his voice hesitant and stilted.

L furrowed his brow. "There is nothing untoward about that, Watari. Have we had past connections with the murder victims? Is that it?"

"No, well, we know of them. Vincent Corini was one of the victims, along with his two body guards Tony Gooch and Freddie Calhoun."

"Hmm, yes, I've heard of that man before. He dabbled in drugs and gambling if I'm not mistaken."

"Recently, he's moved on to human trafficking," added Watari.

"A step up in the world? Pity he won't be brought to justice by myself seeing as he was murdered," said L, sounding as if he truly didn't care one way or the other.

"Yes, pity," said Watari, absently fiddling with a loose string on his cuff. The action did not go unnoticed by L.

"I would suspect that many people would be out to murder the man, but why do you think I would be so interested in this case? You know I refrain from taking cases like these," said L, sipping at his cooled tea.

Watari took a deep breath before plowing on.

"Well, that's just the thing. The crime was committed at a small apartment, but the man who rented it was under an alias, so we have nothing on him but a rough description from the neighbors. Along with the blood found from the three victims, another person's blood was found. They cross-referenced the blood with the local hospitals to see if anything came up. As you know, sometimes the police get lucky if the suspect is a local, and they found a blood match with an umbilical chord they had frozen at a hospital in east London. Apparently some parents keep babies' umbilical chords for future uses in cancer treatments or something of the like, and the hospital records were extensive, but -"

"You're rambling, Watari," interrupted L.

Watari coughed. "Yes, well, the suspect . . ."

L swiveled in his chair when Watari went silent, his curiosity peaked, to fully face the older man.

"Who does the blood belong to?"

Watari sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Light Layfield."

* * *

Light cleaned his face up the best he could, but there was only so much he could do in a dirty dimly-lit bathroom of a train station. He was able to change clothes though, unceremoniously dumping the blood garments in the trash. That had been a relief. He closed his eyes briefly, but snapped them open once he saw the bloodied corpses in his mind's eye.

He shuddered.

Heaving his duffle onto his shoulder, Light made his way out of the bathroom. The lights were better out in the station proper, and Light sought the nearest seat before throwing himself down, laying his duffle to rest at his feet.

He checked his wristwatch. He had an hour until the train to Winchester arrived, another twenty on top of that before it departed.

Ryuk, ever his shadow, chuckled. "Told you we were going to have some fun tonight! You humans are so entertaining!"

In keeping with the illusion that his sanity was perfectly intact, Light refrained from yelling at the shinigami. Instead, he settled on an icy glare, which only served to amuse the death god more.

He looked away from the floating specter. It was late, and there weren't many people at the station. A couple of rough looking boys his age were horsing around near the ticket booth, the night guard eyeing them with ill hidden suspicion. An elderly man limped by Light, his cane clacking noisily. The man stared at Light before looking away and limping just a bit more quickly than before. Light scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at the odd behavior before realizing what the man must have noticed.

Light gently touched the raw cut on his face. With his luck, he'd have a nasty scar. He could almost see the humor in his disfigurement. It was only the beginning of his repentance for being Kira, he was sure. After taking such great pride in his appearance for so long, it was only justice that he would have a disfiguring scar.

His sins would be clear for all those to see.

He scooted down further into his seat, letting his head rest against the back of his chair. He double checked his wristwatch to make sure that his alarm would sound before he boarded the train, and then closed his eyes, ignoring any and all ghosts that tried to show their ugly, bloody faces.

He was tired, and he hadn't slept a wink all night. He needed a full night's sleep to function, otherwise it was like night of the living dead where he was concerned.

He crossed his arms, letting his head loll a bit to the side. It wasn't the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in, but it would do.

"Do you have any apples?" asked Ryuk suddenly.

Light cracked an eye, annoyed. "No."

"Are you sure?" prodded the shinigami.

"_Yes,_ I'm sure," whispered Light curtly, glancing around to see if anyone noticed him seemingly talking to himself.

Ryuk huffed before floating away.

Light glared after the annoying death god before shutting his eyes once more. However, to his dismay, although his body was physically exhausted, his brain was anything but. His thoughts drifted to the mysterious black bag that was shoved deep in his pocket. He still hadn't checked out the contents. He wanted to wait until later, but what had his father given to Greg, and why did Greg seem to believe that he could "figure it out?" Figure out what? He'd have to look in the bag to find out that answer.

And Greg. Light didn't know what to think about his uncle. Light had always prided himself on his ability to judge another's character. He had been positive that Greg, underneath all the filth and booze, was a good guy, and maybe he really was, but the way Greg had been able to kill that man . . . But was that really any different that what Light had done as Kira? It wasn't like Greg killed someone innocent.

But the look on that one guy's face before Greg literally blew his head off . . .

That man hadn't been some hardened picture of a criminal glaring out of a television screen. He'd been a frightened human being, staring up at his killer in a pool of his own blood, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes, his mouth open in a silent plea for mercy.

Light shivered at the memory.

Greg had been the one to kill the man, who Light knew had been anything but an innocent bystander, and yet if Greg was ever caught, he'd be charged for murder.

There had always been a part of Light, even after he had fully separated himself from his alter ego, that had secretly thought that maybe what Kira did wasn't all that bad in what he did. Surely his lofty goals of changing the world to a better place weren't really so evil? Light just didn't want to see Lawli die for Kira's beliefs, because Lawli was more important that saving the world in Light's eyes. And yet, a small part of Light continued to believe in Kira's ideals, the rightness of what Kira had done.

But now . . .

How many people had Kira killed that were like Greg? Murderers, but not? People who killed in self-defense? Those who's story was only partially known, and yet were still being judged? How many innocent people were dead because of him?

The dead man's frightened face flashed suddenly through his mind. Were all criminals that . . . human? Had Kira's victims felt that kind of fear in the grips of a heart attack that would end their life? Greg killed in defense, but the man was already down. On the other hand, it was safer to leave no witnesses, and the man could have found a way to turn the tables - maybe.

Light shook his head. He didn't know what to think. What was right? What was wrong?

Was their even a difference anymore?

Suddenly it wasn't so black and white anymore in Light's eyes. How could it be after everything that had just happened?

No, black and white had mixed and melded to the point that all Light could see now were shades of grey.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Okay people! There it is! And thank you all so much for sticking with me! I know I was obnoxiously late, but tomorrow I'll be home, and then I'll get started on the next installment!

Buuuut, what did ya think? Huh? Huh?! I loved writing this chapter. I was really trying for the macabre here. I haven't written much of that before, so it was an adventure, but I sure do love it, lol!

Sooo, SAY SOMETHING, peeps!

And I'll tell the ocean y'all said hello! XD :P


	18. Friendship

**A/N: **Hey you guys! I wasn't lying when I said I was back! Whee! XD

Well, I'm home (**THANK GOD**!), and even though I caught some sort of stupid bug within the past 24 hours, it didn't stop me from writing this chapter!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me! Man, is it good to be back!!!!

Oh ho ho ho! This is a chapter people have been asking about, but no, **it's not THAT chapter**, but don't worry. **THAT chapter** should be coming up _really really really really_ soon! XD

So please! Sit back, grab a blanket (I've got mine!), and stay tuned for the next installment of The Art of Drowning by that crazy girl with an L fetish!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Friendship_

* * *

Something was dreadfully wrong with him.

L sat, hunched in his usual position, glaring at the large slice of cheese cake Watari had insisted on leaving for him.

He didn't really like cheesecake anymore, but that was understandable. L could explain the reason behind his avoidance of the sweet, and it was a perfectly logical reason, but what he couldn't explain was something much more troubling.

Something was dreadfully wrong with him, and it bothered L to no end.

By nature, L was an introvert. Where some felt the need to surround themselves with people, even taking great comfort in doing so, L felt the need to be alone. He craved very little social interaction, and what little he did was taken care of by Watari.

However, that is not to say that L never felt the need to have friends, and he counted himself lucky that in his childhood he had had a friend so close they were like brothers. Until recently, Light Layfield was the only person he could stand being around for any great length of time.

Considering that L hadn't seen him in nearly a decade and that their relationship had dwindled to a few polite letters exchanged every few months or so, this said a lot about how truly introverted L was.

But then Yagami Raito had pushed himself into L's life in the most unconventional manner, and L had found another person that he could stand to be around for long periods of time. Hell, L had even handcuffed himself to the man for months, and very rarely did he ever tire of Raito's presence during that time. Raito had been so . . . invigorating.

But Yagami Raito had been the main suspect in the most extraordinary and unusual case of mass murder in history, and L was the detective charged to catch him.

L sighed, biting his thumb absently at the thought.

L had never actually made a friend before. Light had been more a friend of circumstance than anything, but he was sure that people didn't go about making friends like he did with Raito. Most people didn't lock their would-be friends in solitary confinement, chain themselves to their would-be friends for months, or accuse them of being murderers.

Well, Raito had been a murderer.

What normal person would attempt to befriend a murderer in the first place?

Apparently L would, and he never regretted it. Yagami Raito had become his dearest, best friend, and L had been captivated by him. It wasn't just Raito's attractive features, though L could not deny the physical attraction he had felt. No, it was Raito's mind. L had never been more attracted to another person's mind.

But Raito was Kira the mass murderer, and L was L the detective. They were like Yin and Yang, complete opposites, and it was L's job to make sure that Kira was stopped. They couldn't be friends, couldn't be anything other than criminal and detective, but that hadn't stopped L from secretly thinking of how they complimented each other so perfectly, just like Yin and Yang.

L bit his thumb harder.

Never had a hint of his personal feelings become known to the other man, and L was both glad and grieved because of it. He had been satisfied with friendship. He would rather have that than nothing at all, and L wasn't one to face rejection well. However, he still wished he could have confessed before Raito left this world forever.

But Raito was dead, dead at his own hand, and L continued to feel the heady guilt gnawing at his heart.

He had been too late.

L had wanted proof. He wanted to find out if Raito really was Kira or not before he had set his next plan in motion. If Raito hadn't been Kira, then all the better, but if Raito had been proven to be Kira after his second confinement . . .

L had planned to offer the other man redemption.

Yes, L placed justice high on his priority list, but L had always been a childish, selfish person who hated to lose. And L hadn't wanted to lose Raito. He had wanted to keep him.

But Raito took that away any chance of that when Raito took his own life.

L sighed, pushing the offending cake away. He stood up, walking to the window. He stared out at the cityscape of London. As much as he tried, Raito would not leave him alone.

Yagami Raito was a moot point that L had a hard time forgetting. His mind would dwell on the other man at the most inconvenient of times, like now, when he should be concentrating on the case he was planning to take on. The man was dead, along with any tentative future they might have had at one time.

He was better off forgetting. Much more important things had cause for his attention.

What L needed to concentrate on now was Light Layfield, and the thought of his childhood friend, his almost brother, being the main suspect in a gruesome murder.

L was mildly surprised to find that he wasn't as upset about his would-be brother from the past being a murderer. He hadn't really known the other boy for nearly a decade, and while he missed the companionship and deep relationship they had once shared, L knew that it had ended when Watari had found him all those years ago.

It seemed as if he was getting used to his friends being murderers.

And this brought L back to his original problem.

This was why L knew something was dreadfully, innately wrong with him.

After all, what kind of person could only befriended murderers?

L groaned, letting his head hit against the window. His laptop made a demanding beep, and L glared ruefully at it. He didn't want to work right now. He didn't want to chase after another friend and peg them for murder.

Really, all he wanted to do was enjoy his holiday and forget about all the friends he'd ever had.

"L?" asked Watari, coming into the room.

L made a valiant attempt to ignore the other man. He really didn't feel up to company, even from Watari.

"I see you haven't touched your cake," said Watari.

L sighed explosively. "No, Watari. I have not touched the cake."

"But cheesecake is your favorite," continued the older man, picking up the offending confectionary.

L glared at Watari through the reflection in the window. "It _was_ my favorite."

Watari shook his head sadly. "Well, do you have a new favorite?"

"No, I seem to have lost my appetite for cake," said L petulantly.

Watari nodded. "Ice cream, then?"

L paused, indecision warring. "Yes, I can safely say I prefer ice cream to cake now."

"Then that's what I'll bring you," said Watari, leaving with the untouched plate of cake.

"Watari?" asked L suddenly, stopping the man half way out the door.

Watari turned back. "Yes, L?"

L hesitated. "Do you think . . . there's something wrong with me?"

"Whatever do you mean?" frowned Watari, obviously confused at what L was getting at.

L started to elaborate, but shook his head. "Never mind."

Watari gave him an odd look before nodding, leaving L once again to his thoughts. L turned back to gazing out the window, his head resting against the cool glass. His gentle breathing fogged a small bit of the window, and L scrutinized the condensation before slowly wiping it away with his finger.

"Shall we leave tomorrow then?" asked Watari, coming back into the room with a large bowl of strawberry ice cream.

L stared appreciatively at the sugary confection drowned in chocolate syrup. A small smile lit his face, one that Watari was happy to see.

"Yes, I have not informed the police I would be taking their case yet. I think a couple of days on their own won't hurt," said L, dipping his spoon into the cool treat.

"I'm glad you're finally meeting with them," said Watari conversationally.

L shrugged. "You brought up a good point. I may not be so lucky next time around. My position has earned me a substantial amount of enemies. I just wish it was easier to choose."

"So do I. Neither one of them seems to be particularly suited for the position," observed Watari.

"No, not individually. What Near or Mello lacks, the other makes up for, but without a candidate who encompasses all the qualities of a successful detective such as myself, I'm afraid I cannot make the decision just yet. The children are still young. There is a chance that the decision will be easier as they get older."

"But L, you were solving cases younger than they are now," reminded Watari.

"Yes, I know," said L around a mouthful of ice cream.

Watari dropped the subject with a frown, making a point of tidying up the room that L was sitting in. He put away the books that littered the coffee table, and disposed of the candy wrappers splayed on the floor. It seemed as if L had been aiming for the waste basket, but had missed more than half the time.

"If only Matt was interested, I think I'd pick him," mused L.

"Eh?" asked Watari, straightening up from where he was picking up the candy wrappers.

"Matt would be my first choice, but the boy is not interested in becoming the next L. He is extremely smart. I have no doubt that he could far exceed Near and Mello in his studies if he put any effort into it," explained L.

Watari nodded in understanding. "He has the highest IQ score of the bunch, but Roger reported that he spends most of his time playing video games. How the boy holds the third position is beyond me."

"Exactly. If he put half the effort he does in his video games into his school work, I would not be dealing with such a hard decision, but it is quite obvious to me that the boy does not covet the title of L with the same zeal as Near and Mello. I would not force the boy into a position he does not want," said L.

"Well, we'll have the chance to meet with them, won't we? Maybe a personal meeting will help shed some light on the situation," said Watari.

"Hopefully. Have you contacted Roger about our arrival?" asked L, pushing aside the now empty bowl.

Watari grinned, and L had to stifle a sigh. Watari and Roger had been friends for years, and Watari had a bit of a mean streak when it came to his friends. Looking at him, most would not peg Watari for a prankster at heart, but L knew the older man held a special relationship with the man who ran Whammy's House, one that was like a pair of estranged brothers that would put up with each other a few times a year, but secretly were fond of the other under all their bluster.

"I thought we'd step in unannounced. See how Roger really runs things when he thinks we aren't going to be showing up anytime soon," explained Watari with a devious grin.

"And give him a coronary with our unexpected arrival? How very evil of you, Watari," said L, his face deadpanned.

Watari chuckled. "The old cougar needs some excitement in his admittedly dull life."

"You are going to have us sneak in, aren't you?" asked L, dreading the answer.

"Well, I was thinking we could arrive tomorrow evening and retire without anyone the wiser. Then the next morning, we could give him a real scare by being in his office when he walks in," explained Watari, his voice taking on a childish air in his excitement.

"And I'm sure you will refrain yourself from reorganizing his bug collection - again," commented L.

Watari frowned. "Now, L. It was all in good fun. He's far too organized with the little buggers anyhow."

L quirked his eyebrow, not particularly caring one way or the other, but L supposed he owed it to his long time caretaker to participate in a little fun now and again.

"Fine, fine. I will go along with your prank," said L, giving in.

Watari smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Thank you, L."

L waved his hand. "Not a problem. I know how much fun you have messing around with Roger. It has been awhile since you've seen him anyway. I cannot in good faith deny you your fun after the exhaustive case we just came off of."

Watari nodded, smirking to himself as he took L's empty bowl away.

L watched the older man go with contemplation. Would he ever have an old friend to bicker with and play pranks on? Or would all his friends tend to be suspected murderers and dead murderers?

L sighed, closing his laptop.

He wouldn't look at the case until after he returned from Whammy's. He needed a few more days to distance himself, and what better way than to use the chaotic orphanage as a distraction?

* * *

Light stared after the cab, almost wishing he could call it back, but the cab was too far gone. He glared after it. Yes, he wanted to be here to meet this other relative of his, but he hadn't been prepared to come into the situation quite the way he did. He'd give Greg a piece of his mind when he saw him next. If he saw him next. Hopefully his uncle woudn't get into too much trouble.

He turned his attention to the gigantic house infront of him.

Light glanced once more at the address. Yes, this was it. The setting sun gave the imposing mansion in front of him an ominous look, and it didn't help that church bells could be heard in the distance. He almost felt like he was in some cheesy horror flick.

Light shivered, shaking his head to remove the inane thoughts. It was getting chilly, and it would be nice to go inside, but . . .

He stood before the high iron gate, and wondered what to do. It wasn't like he could waltz up to the door and knock. The gate was closed.

He studied the two brick columns that the iron gate was attached to, along with the high brick fence that spanned the perimeter and connected to the larger brick columns. Well, there was no way he'd be able to climb that.

He looked again at the gate, but he couldn't figure out how it opened. It was then that he spotted a dark grey box attached to one of the columns. He flicked the lid open, only to be met with numbers. So the gate was electronic? Obviously, Light would need a password, which he didn't have.

He sighed, slamming the grey lid closed.

It was then that a carved sign on the opposite column caught his eye, and the English letters processed quickly.

_Whammy House_

Well then.

Obviously, this Roger Ruvie relative of his was extremely well off. He'd even named his mansion. Light bit the inside of his lip, a nervous habit that had only recently resurfaced. He looked down the curbing drive once more, but the cab had long since disappeared.

_Thwap!_

Light jumped, shocked to see a rope had been thrown over the brick wall about forty or so yards down from where he stood. He walked slowly towards the rope, staring at it. He glance around, but there was no one in sight. Obviously, there had to be someone on the other side. Ropes didn't just appear like that, so someone had to have thrown it.

A sudden thought made him pause. He wasn't expected to climb up, was he? No, that was stupid. There had to be another explanation. He waited, looking at the top of the wall, but no one appeared.

Light stood a little ways from the rope, staring at it in frustration. This was getting ridiculous. He glanced around him again, looking for anyone who might have been expecting a coil of rope to fall down from the high brick wall.

"_Ouch! That's my foot_!"

Light's head snapped up.

"_Well, why don't you fucking move it, idiot_!"

Hearing the harsh whispers clearly, Light watched as blue jean clad legs appeared over the wall.

_What the hell?_

The legs were quickly followed by a young teen in a stripped, long sleeved shirt with messy red hair. The boy scaled down the rope, and another teen about the same age threw themselves over the wall and scaled down with considerably more skill. This one, however, had shoulder length blonde hair and wore a black t-shirt and jeans.

Honestly, Light couldn't tell if the blonde was a girl or a boy.

"Grab the rope, Matt!" whispered the blonde.

The boy, who must have been Matt, nodded, pulling on the rope until it dropped down.

"We're not going to be gone too long, right? I'm on level 53 and -"

"Oh, shut up Matt. We won't stay out too late. You remember what happened last -"

The blonde broke off, finally turning and noticing Light.

Light cleared his throat. " I -"

"Who the fuck are you?!" screeched the blonde. The red head, Matt, quickly turned from where he was winding up the rope, and regarded Light in surprise.

Light took a step back, alarmed at the language of the small teen.

"What are you doing lurking around Whammy's?" asked Matt, adjusting a pair of ridiculous blue goggles on his head.

Light stopped himself from glaring at the youths, and instead tried to aim for politeness. He adopted a mild, yet charming mask he had used in the past to get the things he wanted or the information he needed. It had always worked best with females, he found.

"I'm here to see Roger Ruvie," said Light, his voice the epitome of politeness.

The two boys looked at each other, silently communicating.

"You are, huh?" asked the blonde, turning back to regard Light with a furrowed brow.

Light nodded, smiling slightly as he casually crossed his legs, leaning against the brick wall, and aiming for unintimidating.

"What for?" asked Matt, eyeing Light up and down.

"I'm a relative," said Light simply.

"Relative? I didn't know the old geezer had any family," said the blonde, his eyes alight with suspicion.

Light just gave the blonde a deadpanned look before smiling slightly. Well, neither did Light until his father had written the man's name down and given it to him.

The blonde scowled at Light's lack of verbal response. "And you can't figure out how to get in, can you?"

Light frowned. The kid was observant. "Yes, that's right."

Matt decided to speak up. "That's because they close the gates at five. You'd be out here until morning if we hadn't showed up, and it gets cold here at night."

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, real cold. You'll freeze your damn balls off."

Light stared at the blonde, taken back once again by the vulgarity used casually by someone so young. He had to remind himself that kids in England were different from kids in Japan.

"We can help you get in," chimed in Matt.

"But it'll cost you," countered the blonde.

Light frowned. What could these kids possibly want? "What will it cost me?"

"Got any money?" grinned Matt.

* * *

Two hours later, Light learned that the blonde was actually a boy named Mello who had a strong predilection towards cursing and chocolate. In fact, the whole reason that Mello and Matt were sneaking out of Whammy's House, which Light learned was actually an orphanage for gifted children that his relative was in charge of running, was because Mello had run out of chocolate. Matt, on the other hand, was particularly fond of video games, and kept his nose buried in his Gameboy Advance.

After buying the blonde a nice stash of chocolate, Matt had rounded on him.

"Now it's my turn!" he exclaimed, pausing his game.

Light cocked an eyebrow. He could just ditch the two kids and stay in a motel. The boys had proven that the walk to the nearby village wasn't that far, and he could just walk over in the morning, but something drew him to these two. They were eccentric, odd looking, sported addictive personalities to the weirdest things, and all in all they reminded him a bit of -

Oh, they reminded him of Lawli. That was it.

Light sighed. "Sure, kid. What do you want?"

Matt grinned. "Cigarettes."

"What?! How old are you anyways?!" yelled Light. The kid looked like he was thirteen at best.

Matt huffed. "Old enough."

Mello refrained from commenting. He was too busy gnawing on his chocolate bar.

"Oh, fine," gave in Light. Really, it wasn't his business if the kid wanted to kill himself slowly. Besides, Light had promised, well, more like been manipulated into buying stuff for the kids. He sort of admired their audacity when it came to manipulating a complete stranger.

Or maybe it was stupidity. He glared at the two from the corner of his eye before shrugging to himself.

After he had acquired a box of cigarettes for Matt, he sent them on their way.

"But aren't you coming back with us? We still need to hold up our end of the bargain," said Matt, fumbling with his new carton of cigarettes. They wouldn't fit in his pocket. Apparently his pockets were too full of who knows what.

Mello swallowed his chocolate before glaring at Light suspiciously. "Yeah, what gives? Why the hell did you buy us all this shit if you don't want us to get you in to see Roger?"

Light shrugged. "It's late. I don't want to just show up. That would be inconsiderate. I'll stay here in town and walk over in the morning."

"But why did you buy us all this shit?" repeated Mello, a suspicious glare marring his face.

"You both just . . . reminded me of someone. That's all," said Light, sticking to the truth.

"Who?" demanded Mello.

"You wouldn't know him," chuckled Light.

Mello rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Come on, Matt."

Matt waved half heartedly, his attention once again locked onto his Gameboy, as he was dragged away by Mello.

Light frowned after the two before shaking his head. He checked his wristwatch. It was getting late, and he needed to find a place to stay.

Tomorrow should prove to be interesting.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **And there you have it folks! Now don't be shy! **SAY SOMETHING!**


	19. The Vengeful Cosmos

**A/N: **Okay, before I get jumped, let me say, this isn't **THE chapter**, but seriously you guys, you should all be able to **TASTE it, it's that close**! It was going to be this chapter, but surprise surprise, I had an epiphany, and just keep in mind, everything that is introduced plays a role in the plot, so please don't be too mad at me!!!

**And to those you who think that I'm NOT actually pulling a chapter out of my ass everytime I sit down to write and have spent hours planning every little detail out** - awww, thanks! But really, I only have a vague idea of the final destination. Very little planning has gone into this story. I'm more of a write now figure out things later type of person, but the fact that I've fooled people into thinking I've planned all the shit that's been happening maketh me blush! :D

I keep thinking about how precisely I want Light and L to meet again. Truthfully, I really wanted to have Light running down the streets, somehow mysteriously naked, and Watari pull over to offer assistence, but neither of them really recognizing the other because of the dark. Can you imagine the scene where Light jumps into the back only to be face to face with L? How awkward and shocking to be faced with your presumably dead friend/love interest --- who just happens to be butt ass naked?! Whee! And can you imagine Light's face?! Gah, I really want to write that! But no, it wouldn't fit with where I'm going. Le sob. That's why I mentioned it though, because I just couldn't keep that mental scene to myself!

**And thanks for reviewing, seriously, everyone's support is amazing and beautiful to me!**

**OH, READ THIS!!**

The wonderful amazing awesome fantastically super great **Ileranerak** has done **ANOTHER fanart**! It's absolutely precious, and I seriously almost cried at how awesome it was! It's another young Light and Lawli, so all of you go here to check it out!

**http: //ileranerak. deviantart. com/art/The-art-of-Drowning-123626573**

And not only that, but Ileranerak has expressed an interest in **translating this story into Spanish!!!!!** WOW! I am unbelievably flattered! Like Ileranerak said, hopefully the people who stick to Spanish fics here on can discover the joy of AoD too!

And this goes without saying, but OF COURSE this **chapter is dedicated to Ileranerak**!

Okay, enough of my blabbing. Here we go again folks!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_The Vengeful Cosmos_

* * *

Light was correct in his assumption that his day would prove interesting

Actually, _interesting_ was an understatement.

His day started at roughly 4:47AM. Light knew this because he later found (when he was trying to fix the blasted thing so he wouldn't be charged for the damages) that was what the old motel clock stopped at when it was brutally thrown against the motel's concrete wall, which was disguised under yellowed, peeling wallpaper.

But before any of that happened, Light was sleeping peacefully, if not a little uncomfortably on the springy motel mattress and stale sheets, when an unimaginably huge man slammed into his motel room, ripping the flimsy chain that locked the door right off its hinges.

Light jerked awake, bleary and disoriented, sitting up only to be faced with a raving mad man of African decent wielding a baseball bat.

"GOD DAMN IT, BEVERLY!"

The man's angry yell was punctuated by him swinging his baseball bat towards Light's head, and Light wasn't so disoriented that he didn't know when to duck. Instead, the baseball bat hit the old clock sitting on his bedside table, slamming the clock into the wall.

The man threw the baseball bat aside, jumping onto the bed and punching Light square in the face.

"_Oof_!" gasped Light, his head snapping back.

The man grabbed him by the front of his shirt, straddling Light so he wouldn't be able to escape, and brought Light nose to nose with his frothing, manic face.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?! WHERE DID THAT TWO-TIMING BITCH GO!?" yelled the man, spittle flying across Light's face.

Light blinked rapidly, panic coursing through his veins, as he tried to find his voice. "Wh-what?! Th-There's no one here! Why are you in my room?!"

The huge man shook him roughly. "Stop playing games, punk! I know she was here! You've been fucking her behind my back for two weeks now, and I'm going to fucking _kill you_, you sorry son of a-"

"I don't know who you're talking about!" interrupted Light, desperately. This crazed psycho was threatening to kill him?! For what?! Having sex with someone he'd never even _met_ before?!

The huge man was strong, and much, _much_ bigger than Light. The man looked like some sort of mad wrestler pumped up on steroids, and Light felt safe in his assumption that the man could crush his windpipe easily.

The man drew back his fist, an angry expression twisting his features, and Light cringed.

Nothing happened.

Light cautiously opened one eye.

The man was squinting his eyes, studying the smaller man in the dim light, before his eyebrows shot up in shock.

"Hey, you're Asian!" exclaimed the man, sounding honestly surprised.

Light just stared at the man, his jaw slack, and head pounding painfully from the first punch.

"H-huh?" stuttered Light.

The man grinned abashedly before setting Light back gently against the lumpy pillows. He scratched the back of his huge head in embarrassment as he carefully extracted himself from Light.

"Uh, damn, I thought you that white punk bitch. This is pretty embarrassing," muttered the man, looking at Light apologetically.

Light just continued to stare at the man.

_What the hell?_

The man chuckled awkwardly. "Hey, man, I'm - real, _real_ sorry. See, I thought you were this punk that's been fucking my girl for the past two weeks, but I must have gotten the wrong hotel room. Sorry, man."

Light really didn't know what to say, so he just nodded dumbly.

The man picked up his baseball bat, swinging it casually to rest on his shoulder. The man's muscles bulged underneath his skintight black shirt, and Light was alarmed to see how truly huge the man was standing up straight.

"Should probably get some ice for that," suggested the man, gesturing to Light's face.

Light cautiously touched his swollen cheek. Luckily, the man had managed to hit the cheek without the slashing cut. Well, at least he didn't look lopsided. Now he had two injuries on his face to balance him out.

The man walked out the door, closing the it softly behind him.

The dim lighting from the street lamp across the road cast the room in an eerie glow once more. The sun hadn't even risen, but Light knew that he wouldn't be getting his full eight hours of sleep today.

The door suddenly opened again, causing Light to yelp in surprise, flinching away from the man sticking his head back through the door.

"Again, I'm _really_ sorry about all that!" said the man, before shutting the door.

Light tried to catch his breath. Damn. How the _hell_ did he even wind up in these kinds of situations? It was like some angry, vengeful spirit was purposefully trying to make his life a living hell by throwing him head first into fucked up situations that called for Light's life to be threatened in some way.

Well, considering all the Kira business, Light wouldn't be surprised if some vengeful spirit _was_ after his blood. He supposed going through crazy, life-threatening situations like these were all part of some cosmic revenge for Light trying to play God. This was probably his retribution.

Either that, or Light had developed horribly rotten luck.

Light flopped back onto the bed, rubbing his swollen cheek gently while trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Unbelievable.

Would he _ever_ catch a fucking break?

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Light was up, bathed, dressed, and determined to leave the motel before something _else_ happened. He stuffed his duffle bag back underneath the bed once he had changed clothes, as he really didn't want to go lugging the thing around when he went and met with his relative. It didn't hurt to keep the motel room, just in case Roger Ruvie didn't offer him a place to stay like Greg had.

Light grimaced as he gently dabbed some of the left over antiseptic cream he had on his cut. At least it didn't look like it was getting infected. He really didn't need to deal with that right now. He put some on his mostly healed fingers for good measure.

He sighed, noticing distantly that the sun was coming up.

Light opened the door to his motel room, only to be met with the raised fist of the man who had attacked him earlier.

"Gah!" gasped Light, throwing himself back and tripping, only to land on his rear.

The huge man looked surprised. "Oh, sorry, man! I was just about to knock."

"Uh, that's - fine. Did you, erm, want something - else?" asked Light, his voice stilted. He rolled to his feet, cautiously taking in the other man.

"Heh, well, I really am _very_ sorry about what happened this morning -" started the man.

"Yes, you've let me know that," interrupted Light curtly, beating himself up as soon as the words passed his lips. He made a valiant attempt to curb his anger, trying to forget the circumstances of their meeting. This man looked like he could put Light in a world of pain if he wanted to.

Luckily, the man didn't take offence. Instead, he laughed.

"I wanted to make it up to you," he chuckled, leaning casually on the door frame, his bulk taking up the entirety of it.

Light raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You do?"

The man nodded. "How about some coffee? It's the least I can do."

Light hesitated, but the man looked genuine. Oh, fine. If the man really wanted to hurt or kill him, he'd had plenty of opportunity earlier when Light had been straddled and defenseless.

Light shrugged easily. "Sure. Sounds fair."

The man grinned, before sticking out his hand. "Name's Tank."

Honestly, Light wasn't surprised that the man was called Tank. He was sure built like one.

Light grasped the other man's hand firmly. "Tsuki."

Tank laughed. "Man, you've got one of those weird Asian names, too!"

Light smiled in response. "Well, I am Asian, and thank God for that, otherwise I'd probably be dead by now."

"Yeah, no shit. I probably would have murdered you if I hadn't noticed," said the man with an easy smile.

Light chuckled nervously. "Comforting to know I'm right."

"Well come on, Asian guy. Let's go get some coffee," said Tank, moving out of the way so Light could exit the motel.

Light locked the door behind him before following Tank to the small diner across the road from the motel. It was one of those places that stayed open all night and had sub-par food, but Light didn't have the energy to be picky. Coffee was coffee.

This whole morning had been decidedly odd, so Light chose not to ponder on how he had ended up accepting an invitation to coffee with some guy who tried to kill him earlier.

Really, he should expect stuff like this to keep happening.

Angry spirits and the cosmos had it out for him, after all, but at least this situation seemed to have ended favorably for him. So far, at least. Free coffee was favorable, no matter who it was from, right?

After an elderly lady with an alarming lack of personal hygiene sat them down at a booth, Tank took the initiative and started up a conversation. Light let Tank lead the conversation, surprised to find that Tank was easy to talk with, until the conversation took a more personal turn.

"So what brings you here? You're obviously not from around here, otherwise you wouldn't be staying in a motel, and I didn't notice any women in bed with you," said Tank, biting viciously into a piece of bacon.

"I'm visiting a relative," he responded easily.

Tank nodded. "Fun. Always enjoy seeing the family now and again. Hey, how'd you end up with that nasty cut on your face anyhow? I know I didn't do that."

Light hesitated. "Well, let's just say that the situation I came from went a little something like what happened between me and you this morning, and my visit was cut short."

"Someone attacked you? Well, you don't look too bad off," said Tank.

Light smiled ruefully. "You should see the other guy."

Tank laughed. "Man, your week hasn't been good, has it?"

"_That's_ an understatement," agreed Light heavily.

"So what did the other guy want with you?" asked Tank.

"Other _guys_ really. Apparently my uncle owed them money. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," shrugged Light.

"I'm glad I don't have your luck then, because that seems to happen to you alot - being in the wrong place at the wrong time," commented Tank, grinning at Light.

Light stifled a sigh. "You can't imagine how right you are."

"So, Asian guy, you don't look all Asian," commented Tank, changing the subject around a bite of eggs.

Light shrugged before sipping his coffee. "My father was English."

"Was? Sorry man. My old man's gone too. Croaked from lung cancer. That's why I never touch the stuff. So how did your old man die?"

Light hesitated, but he really didn't see a reason to lie. "He and my mother were murdered when I was a baby."

Tank whistled. "Murdered? Nasty business, I should know. So you're an orphan?"

Light nodded. "I was adopted though."

"Well, that's something at least. They ever catch who did it?" asked Tank.

"No, they never did. It's a cold case," said Light pausing as he went over what Tank had previously said.

"And how do _you_ know murder's nasty business? I'm still here, aren't I?" laughed Light, taking another sip of his coffee.

Tank grinned easily. "Only because I saw who you were, or weren't in this case. I'm a killer for hire."

Light spat his coffee on the table, before starring at Tank in horror.

_Killer for hire?!_

Tank laughed. "Hey, it's not such a bad profession! Don't knock it 'til you try it!"

"Wh-why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'd tell somebody?" whispered Light in disbelief, looking around to see if anyone had heard the huge man. Tank was pretty loud, but the restaurant was fairly empty, and they were fairly isolated in a booth at the back of the room. Those who were there took no notice.

Tank shrugged, still smiling. "I don't think you'd tell. Besides, you know first hand how easily I could kill you."

Light nodded dumbly, taking the veiled threat to heart. "That's a good point. I'm just surprised at your honesty. That's the kind of information I would expect a killer for hire to keep to himself."

"I'm a surprisingly honest killer for hire. Really, killing people is one of the only thing I'm good at. Well, I take that back. I'm pretty good at just about everything illegal. I'm just not good with cubicles or nine to fives. Terribly boring. And I never kill people who don't honestly deserve it, no matter how much someone tries to pay me. I'm very popular, you see," said Tank, once again shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Light desperately tried not to see the parallels between himself and Tank, but it was too hard, so he let himself brood on them for just a moment. Damn. Who was he to judge?

Light nodded. "Right, well, I'll be sure to hire you if I ever need someone dead."

Tank laughed loudly, slapping the table. "Oh, man, Asian guy. You're alright!"

Tank insisted on paying for everything, even when Light tried to leave a tip for their smelly waitress, and Light decided it would probably be best if he accepted Tank's offer graciously. He had a new appreciation for life in general after almost dying - here Light had to stop and mentally count - three times within the past few weeks. So he most definitely wouldn't go out of his way to upset a killer for hire.

Tank was chatting away aimlessly as they left the diner, and Light listened with one ear, stopping for a moment to peruse the newspaper stand, as he was thinking about buying a paper. However, it was at that moment that Light noticed that Tank had kept walking, straight into the street, and had paused when he saw Light hovering around the newspaper stand. What Tank didn't see was the ice cream truck barreling down the street, and Light's eyes widened in horror.

"TANK!" yelled Light, running to the larger man and tackling him, pushing themselves out of the way of the ice cream truck just in time. They both landed with a grunt on the opposite side of the road.

"What the _hell_? Did you not _hear_ the damned ice cream bells?" gasped Light, sitting up.

Tank blinked, staring at Light in something akin to wonder. "Little Asian guy . . . you just saved my life."

Light bristled slightly. So he was _Little_ Asian guy now? Well, next to Tank, who had to be pushing six foot _seven_, at least, Light grudgingly supposed the other man had reason to see him as such. Didn't mean he had to mention it though. Despite all the stuff he'd been through lately, Light still had _some_ pride left, after all.

"What were you thinking?!" growled Light, standing up and brushing off his pants. He held out his hand to the stunned man on still lying on the ground. Tank took his hand gratefully.

"My hearing's not too good and my eyesight's worse, Asian guy. I couldn't even tell you were Asian until I had you inches from my face," explained Tank, heaving himself up with Light's help.

"And you're a killer for hire? Don't you think you'd need to _see_ for that?" asked Light in disbelief.

"Eh, I get by," smiled Tank.

"Why don't you get glasses or contacts?" asked Light, joining Tank as they made their way back to the side walk. It was still too early for there to be many people out and about, and the area was thankfully deserted.

Tank shrugged. "Just haven't found the time to go and get them I guess."

Light chuckled, somewhat giddy from the adrenaline rush. Unbelievable. This whole fucking situation was unbelievable.

Tank suddenly stopped, causing Light to stop with him.

"Asian guy . . . you seriously just saved my life back there."

"It wasn't that big of a deal. Anyone would do it," mumbled Light, slightly embarrassed at how Tank was looking at him.

Tank shook his head. "No, Asian guy, it _was_ a big deal. I tell you I'm a killer for hire, threaten to kill you if you tell anybody, actually tried to kill you earlier, and you _still_ saved my life, despite all the shit I've said and done to you."

"Yeah, well, you bought me coffee," said Light, as if it explained everything.

Tank threw his head back and a great booming laugh burst from him. Light took a moment to note that his head only came up just below the other man's shoulders.

"I knew I liked you," grinned Tank. The man reached into his pocket, and Light was relieved to see Tank pull out a card rather than a knife or a gun that he had half way expected to appear in the other man's hands. He really was paranoid, but not without reason, he supposed.

"Here, Asian guy. This is my card. I want you to call me anytime you need me, for whatever reason. I seriously owe you one. And I mean any reason too. You need anything - drugs, hookers, a car, a place to stay, someone to disappear permanently, someone to be mauled - I'm your man. Whatever you need, Asian guy, I've got your back," explained Tank, handing over the card.

Light blinked, taking the card. He looked down. It simply said 'Tank' and a phone number.

"Blunt and to the point," commented Light.

"Yeah, that's usually how I roll. If I hadn't of been so angry when I burst in on you, the whole affair probably would have been blunt and to the point, if you get my drift. It's just that _fucking punk_ Beverly's been _screwing around_ with on me gets me _so angry_ -"

"Thank you, Tank! I will definitely call you if I need anything," interrupted Light quickly, afraid the man might work himself up to that terrifying anger Light saw earlier that morning.

The huge man chuckled, cuffing Light roughly on the shoulder. Light coughed, staggering a bit underneath the man's gigantic hand.

"I got to get going Asian guy, but I hope I hear from you soon. Even if you're bored, call me," said Tank, his good humor returning.

"Yeah, I'll call you," agreed Light, and they shook hands before going their separate ways.

"Hey Asian guy," called Tank suddenly.

Light turned around.

"My real name's Carl. Don't let it get around, okay?" said Tank.

Light hesitated, but smiled, coming to a decision. "I won't, and mine's Light. Don't let it get around."

Tank laughed, before nodding and turning away.

Light regarded the huge man as he walked away. He felt like he'd just made a friend, which was odd in and of itself. Light didn't make friends.

He sighed before shoving his hands in his pockets, letting his mind leave the matter alone. He would go and buy a paper, but he didn't quite feel like reading just then. So Light walked until he came upon a park not ten minutes from the motel.

He sat himself down on a bench, and appreciated the nature surrounding him. The English countryside was beautiful compared to the smog filled streets of Tokyo, and Light breathed in deeply.

Light felt like he needed to center himself before meeting with his next relative. Besides, he checked his watch, it was only pushing seven. He doubted many people would be up at this hour.

Well, if not for the events of this morning, he'd still be asleep too.

Light tilted his head as a pigeon landed a few feet from him. He didn't have any bread, and the pigeon must have concluded this also, because it hopped away to peck at the grass, another pigeon joining it soon after.

Light stared at the two pigeons, his mind mulling over the idea of friendship, before inevitably bypassing Tank and heading straight to Lawli, his oldest and best friend.

What was Lawli doing right now? Which ever time zone he was in, he probably wasn't sleeping. Maybe he was eating cake, his fingers pecking at blinding speeds on his laptop. The soft glow would be illuminating his face, highlighting the deep circles underneath his eyes. His hair would be in its usually messy state, his clothing rumpled.

Light closed his eyes. It was easy to pretend he was still chained to the detective, trying to sleep, but giving up and just watching the man work until all hours of the night instead. Light had spent many sleepless nights just watching the other man, fascinated by him, entranced.

Light snapped his eyes open, but Lawli wasn't there, and he never would be again.

* * *

Matt opened the door to his room, shutting it firmly after him, his attention focused solely on the Gameboy. He had made it to level 79.

He heard shuffling, and looked up from his game, surprised to see Mello pushing their one window open.

"I thought you went to the library to work on that paper," said Matt, trying to figure out why Mello was opening up their window.

Mello didn't say anything, only grunting to acknowledge his friend.

"You aren't going to jump, are you?" asked Matt, joking.

Mello shot him a nasty glare. "Shut up Matt."

That was when Matt noticed what Mello was holding.

"Hey, isn't that Near's?" asked Matt.

Mello scowled at the name, holding up the toy robot before chucking it out the window. "It _was_."

Matt shook his head. "Roger will figure out it was you. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together when they find it smashed outside our window."

Mello's eyes widened comically in anger. "Fuck! God damn it, why didn't you stop me!?"

Matt shrugged, but was grabbed by Mello and dragged from the room, presumably to fetch the pieces of the robot and plant it underneath someone else's window.

However, when they got outside, something much more interesting caught their attention.

"Hey, it's that guy from yesterday," said Matt, pointing to the man walking through the opened gate.

Mello stopped. "Let's go see him."

"Yeah," agreed Matt.

The man saw them and waved. "Hey you two. I wasn't expect you to here when I came back. I figured you would be in school or something."

"We don't go to the local school. They teach us here since this is an orphanage specifically for intellectually gifted orphans," explained Matt.

The man laughed. "I should have figured that. The orphanage I grew up in schooled us there, but it was because we were too far from any other schools."

Mello cocked an eyebrow. "You're an orphan?"

The man nodded, and Matt saw that the older man wasn't going to elaborate. Mello noticed this too. The other boy took out a chocolate bar, pulled back the foil, and took a bite.

"What happened to your face?" asked Mello. Matt noticed it then too. Geez, looked like someone had clocked him good.

The man brought his hand up to his cheek. "Er, I ran into a doorframe?"

Matt frowned. "Is that an answer or a question?"

"Sounded like a question to me," said Mello, taking another bite from his chocolate.

The man shrugged. "Doorframe had a pretty mean right hook."

Matt laughed, and Mello gave a small smile.

"You want us to take you to Roger?" asked Matt.

The man nodded. "I would appreciate it."

"Well, then follow us," said Matt, and him and Mello both turned to the mansion, the man following.

Matt would have to remember to ask him for his name.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Can you **TASTE** it?! Because _you know what_ is **SO CLOSE**!

I love writing, really I do. And I love getting reviews too, so go ahead and **SAY SOMETHING**, and I'll go ahead and start on the next chapter (after I sleep! It's 2AM!).

Oh, and you know that vengeful spirit that keeps on making Light's life a madhouse? Yeah, that's me. Go me. XD


	20. Strange Bedfellows

**A/N: **Well, here I go again. Updating! Pfft! Of all things! It's like, _like I just can't STOP_!

And on this chapter . . . I'm not saying a word, not one word! **My lips are sealed**!

I'm so glad everyone loves Tank! Yay! Me too! And thanks for all the awesome reviews! You guys rock my socks!

**Now, I'm just gonna say this, but if ANYONE feels the urge to do a little fanart or trailer for this fic, then by all means, let the feelings move you! Really, I won't stop you . . . seriously, and I would love you dearly!**

And **Moonkist_x_**? I will marry you because you are amazingly awesome, and I fracking love you to bits!

Okay folks. Like I said, my lips are sealed on this one, but just to let you all know, I've got half of the next chapter written already. It won't be long before it's up.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Strange Bedfellows_

* * *

If Light were to say he wasn't nervous, then he'd be lying. It was one thing to knock hopefully on some guy's door in some run down apartment complex in a shady part of town. It was quite another thing to be led through an extravagant mansion turned orphanage to meet the man in charge of it all by two strange orphans.

"So where are all the kids?" asked Light, trying to get his mind off the impending meeting. He had only seen a few of the blighters running around, but not nearly enough to think this place was an orphanage.

Matt shrugged. "Classes, mostly."

Light raised an eyebrow. "And how come you two aren't in class?"

"I don't have class right now," said Mello, still eating that huge chocolate bar.

"I'm skipping," added Matt nonchalantly.

"Somehow I'm not too surprised about that," replied Light, following the two boys up another staircase.

"How big is this place anyway?" wondered Light, gazing up at a portrait of some stuffy looking old woman.

"It's fucking huge. You could get lost if you weren't familiar with it," said Mello.

"I would imagine," agreed Light, looking down a particularly twisted hallway.

It was silent after that, each lost in their own thoughts as the two boys navigated the hallways flawlessly. They finally reached their destination, bringing Light to stand before a rather ordinary door at the end of a long, surprisingly straight hallway. Light nervously bit the inside of his lip.

"Well don't just stand there like a fucking idiot! Knock already! Or here, let me do it for you," said Mello, bringing up his fist.

"No, that's -"

The younger boy pounded loudly on the door, making Light cringe. So much for that nice first impression. Matt chuckled lightly under his breath.

A muffled 'come in' was heard through the thick wood.

Mello threw the door open, strutting in. Matt followed, and Light too after a brief hesitation.

"Hey, Roger. Look who we found," said Mello, gesturing to Light.

Light took a moment to study the elderly man in front of him, who was blinking at him in confusion. The guy looked older than dirt, and Light was slightly disgusted to realize that the man was pinning dead bugs to some sort of sheet that would more than likely be framed at a later time.

"Who's your friend, Mello?" asked the old man, presumably Roger Ruvie.

Mello cocked an eyebrow. "You mean you don't know him?"

Matt threw Light a piercing look. Light figured now was a good a time as any to introduce himself.

"I'm Light Layfield, and are you Roger Ruvie? I was told we were related," offered Light, stepping forward.

The old man's eyebrows rose, and he stood up slowly from his desk.

"Yes, I'm Rog - Light _Layfield_?" Roger asked suddenly, his eyes widening.

Light nodded, relieved that the man seemed to know what he was talking about. He just hoped he wouldn't be asked to pull his pants down again. Maybe Roger would take his word on good faith.

And maybe Light had the most amazing luck in the world.

He stifled a sigh, instead, offering his hand to the man as was Western custom. The man took it hesitantly.

"Light Layfield . . . I thought you were dead," said Roger faintly.

He didn't miss the quick glance shared by Matt and Mello.

Light gave the man an easy smile. "Yes, well, reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."

Roger chuckled, breaking the atmosphere, and gestured to one of the two chairs that was placed in front of his desk. "Please, sit. I'm sure you have _quite_ a story for me, hmm?"

Light nodded, sitting gratefully. It had been a long walk over to the orphanage, and then through it to the office.

"Matt, Mello, thank you for showing Mr. Layfield to my office. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe one of you should be in class, and the other has a paper due, no?" said Roger, steeping his fingers as he gazed at the two boys above his glasses.

Mello made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, but Matt grabbed him and quickly exited. No doubt he didn't want to get in trouble for playing hooky. Light turned back to the older man once the door had slammed. Honestly, Light wouldn't be surprised if the two would try and eaves drop on the conversation, but Light had noticed that the door was awfully thick, probably just for that reason.

"Light Layfield . . . I can't believe my eyes, but you look just like your mother," commented Roger.

"You were her relation then, sir?" asked Light, having already had that confirmed by Greg, but there was no way in hell he'd be mentioning his uncle to this man. Not after what had happened a couple of nights ago.

Roger nodded, folding back what Light assumed to be this morning's newspaper and setting it aside. Apparently it had been in the man's lap. Roger pushed aside his insect project, and leaned against the desk.

"I was her relation, in a way. You see, this place has been an orphanage for quite a while. My friend set up a series of orphanages in the aftermath of the second world war. This orphanage was his crowning achievement, and therefore is the only one to be named after him. Your maternal grandparents were originally from Japan, but were living in England at the time of their automobile accident which resulted in your mother becoming an orphan at an early age. Your mother was sent to an orphanage, but she eventually came here because of her brilliance. I developed a close relationship with her, and she was my daughter in everything but blood. I adopted her not too long after she was sent here," said Roger, regarding Light fondly.

Light nodded. "So, you thought I was dead too?"

Roger sighed. "Well, what else was I supposed to think? The orphanage where you were placed caught fire, and none of the survivors were you."

Light paused. "Wait, you thought I died in the _fire_?"

"Where else would you have died, my boy?" asked Roger, a truly confused expression marring his face.

Light caught himself and shrugged. "I just never realized people thought I had died in that fire. I was actually adopted before that."

Roger nodded in understanding. "Then that explains how you are before me today, perfectly healthy."

Light was contritely grateful that Roger didn't mention how 'healthy' his face was looking these days.

"But why wasn't I brought to this orphanage before the fire, if you were so close to my mother?" asked Light. Surely someone who had adopted his mother would have brought Light to the orphanage that the man was in charge of running?

Roger sighed, rubbing his face. "_That_ is entirely my fault. I didn't know where you were placed until a few months before the fire. The government is extremely unhelpful in such cases, especially considering you were the only survivor of an unsolved murder that took the lives of your parents. Besides, this orphanage is specifically geared to those of high intelligence. I didn't want to rip you from the only home you'd known for years just to send you back if your tests weren't up to par.

Even so, this orphanage employs many people stationed at different orphanages to be on the look out for children showing signs of great intelligence. In such cases, our employees have the children take the tests early to see if they should be brought here. I contacted the man stationed at your orphanage, and he was very eager to tell me that he was already in the process of having you take the tests. I'm sorry he died before he could have administered them, though I am happy you found a family, but my selfish old heart wishes you could have been brought here."

What Roger said struck a chord with Light, and memories long forgotten broke through.

"Mr. Scott? My math teacher?" guessed Light.

Roger smiled slightly. "He was a good man, if not a little overenthusiastic at times. I was very saddened to hear of his untimely death."

"For what it's worth, I understand why you didn't take me away from the orphanage," reassured Light. The man looked awfully guilty as he confessed he had been waiting for Light to take the intelligence tests before bringing him here.

Roger gave Light a grateful smile. "I appreciate your easy acceptance, Light. You remind me of your mother. She had a kind and forgiving heart, and I'm so glad you've finally decided to seek me out. But how did you find out about me? I'm curious."

Here Light had to tread carefully. "My adoptive father works in the Japanese government, and it wasn't too hard for him to find the information. He has some friends over here in England. His connections were probably why it was so easy for him and my adoptive mother to claim me as their own, as well as uncover any information that I sought. I wanted to get in touch with my family."

"So have you found anyone else?" asked Roger.

Light shook his head. "No, you're first on my very short list. I have another name. Yumi Thomas? Do you know her?"

Roger furrowed his thick eyebrows. "Yumi Thomas? Hmm, oh, yes! Yumi! She was your mother's older sister! I don't believe they communicated much. Yumi was older than Ai. She only stayed in an orphanage a few years before turning the legal age. She never came here. So have you visited her yet?"

"No, her address is in Scotland. I figured I'd start here first," said Light.

"I'm flattered!" exclaimed Roger excitedly. Light noticed the old man really did seem flattered that Light had visited him 'first.'

"You know, I believe your father has a brother somewhere, if I'm not mistaken," continued Roger, tapping his finger against his lips in thought.

"Oh, really?" said Light, feigning surprise.

"Hmm, but I don't know whatever became of him. I only heard about him from Ai," admitted Roger apologetically.

"That's a shame. Still, I don't know much about my parents. Part of the reason I sought you out was to find out more about them," added Light.

Roger smiled slightly. "Your parents were a secretive pair, Light. They were heavily involved in the British military, did you know? They were very smart, able people, and they were greatly admired."

"The military? I had no idea. What branch?" asked Light, pretending he hadn't known a bit about that from Greg.

"MI-5."

"MI-5? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with that part of the military. What does it do?" asked Light. It didn't even sound like a branch of the military, but his knowledge of Great Britain's military was rudimentary at best.

Roger leaned forward slightly in his seat. "You don't know? Hmm. Well, it's a secretive branch. It has to be. Its remit includes the protection of British parliamentary democracy and economic interests, counter-terrorism and counter-espionage within the UK. While mainly concerned with internal security, it does have an overseas role in support of its mission."

Light frowned. "So, basically you're saying that my parents -"

" -Were spies, from what I could gather. I'm afraid it's only speculation on my part. They weren't allowed to tell anyone outside of MI-5 what they did, and even then, only the higher ups really know who does what within the organization. But whatever they were involved in, I'm suspect that it cost them their lives," explained Roger, gazing at Light sorrowfully.

"_Spies_?" echoed Light faintly. Well, that would certainly explain a few things - mainly why his parents were targeted. They could have found something - something that caused people to want them dead, but Light couldn't be sure of what that was.

Could this be the connection between his parents and psycho fucker?

It was then that the phone rang. Roger glanced at it with a sigh. "Pardon me, Light."

"Oh, go right ahead," replied Light, gesturing to the ringing phone.

"Yes, this is Roger . . . Oh, I see . . . Really? My, my, that's not terribly good news . . . Yes . . . Yes, I can come in today . . . Half an hour? Well, that's a little soon, but . . . Oh, no other openings today? Well, I suppose I'll be in . . . . Yes . . . Yes, thank you," said Roger, hanging up the phone.

"Is there a problem?" asked Light, taking in the older man's frustrated features.

"Apparently my cholesterol is 'through the roof.' My doctor wants to run a few tests. Seems as if we'll have to continue our conversation later," said Roger, regret evident in his tone.

"That's fine. I understand," said Light, and Roger beamed at him.

"Please tell me you'll stay here, at least for the night?" asked Roger.

"Well, I do have a motel room in town, but I guess I could -"

"Oh, splendid! Absolutely marvelous! Come, come, I'll show you to your quarters and then you can go and fetch your things! We have so much to catch up on! I'm afraid my schedule is rather full for the rest of the day, and it keeps on getting fuller as you probably could tell. How about we have breakfast together tomorrow morning in my office? We can get to know each other a bit better then," suggested Roger, leading Light out of his office.

"Sounds like a good plan," agreed Light, following the older man through the twisting corridors.

"This place is so big, I'm afraid I might get lost," commented Light after a particularly randomized turn.

"I'll fetch you in the morning, don't worry. Just memorize the way we go when I walk you out. After all, we're going the same way," chuckled Roger.

Roger led him to another inconspicuous door. "Here we are. The fellow who usually stays in this room hardly ever comes to visit anymore, so there won't be a problem. And the children are expressly forbidden from coming here, so that will ensure your privacy."

The older man took a large set of keys from his pocket, muttering over them as he tried to find the right one.

"Ah, there you are!" exclaimed Roger, upon finding the correct key.

The older man opened the door to reveal a modest living room decorated in shades of blue. A comfy looking couch was situated in front of a beautiful fireplace, and Light was interested to find that the coffee table held a gigantic bowl full of candy. Actually . . . every single surface, from what he could tell, held a bowl of candy.

How strange.

"The door over to your right leads to the bedroom. On your left is the bathroom, and this door right here leads to a study. Don't worry, the sheets are clean," said Roger, chuckling at some private joke.

Light nodded. "Thank you, Roger. I really appreciate you going to all the trouble.

Roger waved his hand. "Oh, pish posh. It's no trouble at all. You're family, after all. Now, just follow me out. You took a cab here, am I right? How about I drive you back to your motel? It's on the way."

Light didn't bother on correcting Roger about how he had arrived, and instead accepted the older man's offer. Light paid special attention to the route that Roger took to lead them back to the entrance, mulling over his newly found adoptive grandfather who had an easy smile and a penchant for bugs, and all the startling information he'd uncovered about his mysterious parents.

* * *

Watari knew it was probably a bad idea.

Actually, it _was_ a bad idea.

The last time he had pulled this stunt, L had been angry at him for days, but it had been so long since his charge had gotten much sleep other than a few ten minute catnaps in a chair. And what harm would it do, really? If the price to pay was a few days on his ward's bad side, then it was well worth it to have L rested for once.

Watari glanced into his rear view mirror, only to be met with the sight of L staring out the back seat window, absently rolling a lollipop in his mouth. The boy looked exhausted, and not a little depressed. Watari doubted he had gotten over an hour of consecutive sleep since Yagami Raito had died, and that had been over a month ago.

Watari turned his eyes back to the road, making sure not to miss the turn to the orphanage. He pulled up to the gate, quickly typing in the pass code, and waited patiently for the slow moving electronic gate to open. He'd have to bully Roger into updating the slow thing.

Watari smiled devilishly under his mustache at the thought of seeing Roger.

He pulled the car into the huge garage behind the mansion, parking it in an empty space next to a slightly older Rolls Royce. He ambled out of the car, popping open the trunk to retrieve his bag. L had already gotten his own small one, and they walked to the mansion in silence.

"You don't suppose anyone's awake at this hour, do you?" asked Watari, breaking the quiet as he took out a key, stuffing it into the back door leading to the kitchen.

L shrugged. "Hmm, I doubt it. It _is_ one in the morning."

Watari nodded. "How about some tea before we retire?"

L paused, seemingly thinking it over. Watari silently urged his ward to agree, otherwise his plan would fail.

"Yes, that seems agreeable," relented L.

Watari hid his smirk, before setting to work in the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Watari was pulling back the covers of L's bed, gently leading the stumbling man and helping him under the covers.

"I'll be mad 'bout this 'morrow, Tari," slurred L.

Watari chuckled. "I am willing to take the chance, but everyone needs sleep L, even you."

"Do not," murmured L childishly, before his breath evened out.

Watari tucked the covers in around his ward. Maybe L wouldn't be too hard on him in the morning, but drugging L was the only sure fire way to see the man sleep longer than three hours at most. Watari left L's quarters to find his own bed, determined to crawl in and rest his tired old bones.

* * *

Light stumbled slightly, yawning as he made he way back to his rooms. After he had checked out of the motel, he'd walked back to the orphanage and spent the majority of the afternoon in the orphanage's extensive library, which he had happened upon while looking for the kitchen.

He researched what he could on MI-5. Surprisingly, there was a fair amount of information, but nothing that would help him figure out anything on his parents. Just before Light was about to give up, frustrated and lost, he saw a familiar face. Well, two actually.

He was, quite literally, ambushed by Matt and Mello, who were determined to find out why Roger had thought he was dead. After the abridged and slightly altered story, which Light figured couldn't hurt, Matt had challenged Light to a riveting game on the younger boy's Playstation.

Light hadn't necessarily wanted to play against the red head, but decided to go along with the idea all the same, if only because Light had a hard time backing down from a challenge.

Hours later, and Light had been thoroughly beaten. In fact, out of the numerous games they'd played, Light had barely won a third of them, but according to Mello, that in and of itself was an accomplishment considering that Matt was his opponent.

Light groaned when he looked at his wristwatch. It was pushing three in the morning. He really should have left the boys' room earlier, but Light found that he liked spending time with the two. They were interesting, to say the least, and Light hadn't played video games in years. That had been surprisingly fun, something that was a rare commodity these days in Light's life.

Light sighed in relief. There was his door! Next to the portrait of the English countryside. He'd have to keep that in mind. He'd been wandering around for nearly ten minutes, after all, and the only thing he'd recognized was the stuffy old portrait of a portly lady.

He tried the doorknob, surprised that it was locked.

Light could have _sworn_ that he'd left it unlocked.

No matter, Light pulled out the key that Roger had provided him with earlier. He struggled a minute, his eyes crossing in his exhaustion, but he finally found the key hole. He turned the key, opening the door with relish.

He was so bloody tired.

The events of the day were catching up to him with a vengeance, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Light stumbled to what he hoped was the bedroom, which he was relieved to find he was correct in his guess when his knee hit the mattress. He didn't even bother to turn on the lights, just throwing himself into bed. He was too tired to even take his clothes off.

Light was almost, _almost_ asleep, subconsciously snuggling up to the warm pillow beside him . . .

. . .the warm pillow beside him which _moved_ and then gave a small _sigh_.

Light's eyes snapped open, suddenly and painfully awake.

It was at that moment, before Light could even think to move away from whatever or whoever was in bed with him, that he heard his bedroom door opening.

Light stayed still, praying that it was just his imagination, that the whole _fucking thing_ was just the result of spending hours fighting against zombies with Matt, but no, whoever had just opened the door was shuffling to the bed, their footsteps muffled, but audible in the stillness.

It was then that he heard the click of a gun being cocked.

He froze, his heart beating wildly.

God _damn_ cosmos.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, man! If I was one of my readers, I'd fucking HATE me just about now! LULZ! But eveyone remember, I've got half of the next chapter written!

Soooo, SAY SOMETHING! The faster you start talking, the faster I start updating! [hint, hint!]


	21. A Clever Ruse

**A/N: **. . . . . . . . . . .

*giggle!*

XD

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_A Clever Ruse_

* * *

If there was one thing that the past couple of weeks had taught Light, it was that his sense of self preservation was unbelievably strong - and getting stronger after every gun, needle, knife, baseball bat, and fist thrown his way.

This was why Light was not about to take this 'killing him' business lying down.

Light threw himself out of bed, hoping his momentum and the surprise would be enough to overpower the intruder. Light tackled the hulking shape, which he could barely make out in the darkness, slamming his elbow into a rock hard stomach.

"Ow, _fuck_!" harshly whispered the intruder, grabbing onto Light but thankfully dropping the gun.

Light paused, his breath catching. "_Tank_?!"

The intruder, who had grabbed Light by the back of the shirt and was currently manhandling him onto the floor, froze.

"_Asian guy_?!"

Tank abruptly let go, and a sudden light illuminated Light's face. Tank fumbled with the flashlight, the beam shaking and hurting Light's eyes.

Tank gasped. "Holy shit! I almost killed you - _again_!"

"What are you _doing_ here?!" exclaimed Light, so relieved that he felt faint.

"I got a job! Someone wanted me to kill - hey! Light _Layfield_?" asked Tank, incredulous.

Light stared, the dim light of the flashlight illuminating Tank's surprised face.

"Y-yeah. That's me. Someone hired you to _kill_ me?" asked Light, shocked. Who the hell would even know where he was?

Tank nodded dumbly. "Man, this isn't good. That, uh, situation you were telling me about at breakfast. You didn't happen to kill three guys, did you?"

"What?!_ No_! I was just _there_! They told my uncle that if he didn't get them the money he owed them, they were going to kill me, but him and his friend got them before they could kill me and told me to - wait. How did _you_ know it was three guys?" asked Light, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Tank blew out a breath. "Damn, Light Layfield. You are in serious trouble. They found your blood at the scene, and there's a warrant out for your arrest. They think you did it."

"_What the fuck_?!" gasped Light, his stomach twisting. How the hell did they find out the blood belonged to him? And he was wanted for murder? Murder he hadn't even committed? Light didn't fail to see the irony - _fucking cosmos_!

"Yeah, it's true," nodded Tank, giving Light a miserable look.

"But why are you here? Who sent you to kill me?" asked Light, desperation coloring his voice.

"A regular of mine. Told me where to find you, gave me the key and everything. Said you knew each other, but he thought you were planning on killing him or the orphans or something. I didn't connect the name you gave me earlier to Light Layfield. I've just been thinking of you as Asian guy!" explained Tank.

Light froze. "A regular? Who knows me and gave you a key?"

Tank nodded. "Yeah, I don't know his name though. He just goes by 'R.'"

A memory of a huge ring of keys flashed through Light's mind.

"Is he old, with glasses and grey, thinning hair?" asked Light, not really wanting to know the answer - dreading it, really.

"Yeah, that's the one. Mean old bastard. He's been utilizing my services for years, and my father's before me," said Tank.

And Light slowly, agonizingly, felt the pieces coming together.

Been using a killer for hire's services for years? Wanted Light dead? Surely Roger would have just turned Light over to the authorities immediately if he believed Light was a murderer. So why go to the trouble of arranging Light's murder? Roger wouldn't have wanted him to be killed by a killer for hire if there wasn't something . . . he wanted . . . to . . . hide?

_Psycho fucker_. Could it be? Could _Roger_ be psycho fucker? What the hell?!

"We've got to get you out of here. If that old dude wants you dead, he won't stop until you are. This is some serious shit, Light. I may not know the guy's name, but I know what he does. He's been involved in something dirty for years, and it's especially fucked up considering his position here and all. It's just fucking ironic that he's in charge of the place that trains little kids to succeed that super detective. Can you imagine how quick that _L_ guy could catch you if the old dude sics him on you?"

Light felt his breath leave him, stunned. He stared at Tank stupidly.

"Wh-what?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

Tank gave his a confused look. "Since old dude knows L personally, he'd probably set him on our trail . . . _Fuck_, that is going to be bad for business, isn't it?"

"Roger knows . . . _L_?" asked Light, his breathing shallow and painful.

This couldn't just be a coincidence, and the likely hood of Roger being psycho fucker just went up exponentially. It was just _too_ damn coincidental.

"Roger, huh? So that's his name. Yeah, he does, which means we've got to get you the fuck out of here before - Hey? Are you okay? You look a little pale," said Tank, patting Light roughly on the back.

Light paid him no mind, his brain quickly picking apart the conversation he had had with the man today. An orphanage for the intellectually gifted? Fellow who hardly visits? That huge bowl of candy on the coffee table . . . But the _likely hood_ of Light being placed in room belonging to -

_Wait a second_ . . .

Wasn't there somebody . . . ?

No. It couldn't be! It wasn't _possible_!

But . . .

_What if_ . . . ?

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Holy fucking shit -" Light stopped himself, panic coursing through his veins. He had to look. But there was just no way - _no fucking way_- and the man couldn't sleep through any of this, but who else - no surely not. He was just jumping to irrational conclusions due to all the _fucking stress_ he'd been under lately.

"Asian guy? Are you okay?" whispered Tank, sounding a bit frightened himself.

"Let me see that flashlight," demanded Light.

Tank handed it over immediately, and Light took it with shaking hands before pointing it to the opposite side of the bed.

Familiar, messy black hair peaked over the covers.

Light dropped the flashlight in shock.

"Oh _God_. Oh my - fucking hell! _How can this be happening_?!" whispered Light, vaguely feeling his body go numb with shock.

"Hey, I didn't know you were getting it on with some hot piece of as - Is that a guy?" asked Tank suddenly.

Light didn't respond. He just continued to stare blankly at the gently breathing figure beneath the covers. How could this have even happened? The chances of Light and L . . . well, the chances of them even _meeting_ again were slim to none . . . but this? This was absolutely ridiculous!

"Hey, come on, Asian guy! It's okay. My brother's gay. Why, when I gave college a brief try-out, I even fooled around with a few guys. I'd be a hypocrite to hold anything against you," assured Tank.

Light just nodded dumbly, his head spinning. If Roger was truly the one after Light, then he sure as hell wasn't going to leave Lawli here within easy reach of psycho fucker. Which meant he'd have to take Lawli with him.

Light felt like he was going to throw up.

How could he face Lawli anyway? After everything that's happened? After all the lies?

_L thought Light was dead, for Christ's sakes!_

"Tank, you've got to get us out of here. That guy especially. I don't care what happens to me, but please, you've got to protect that guy at all costs," begged Light, deftly trying to will away the tears that threatened to fall. He was turning into some sort of bloody emotional wreck. What he needed was to snap the fuck out of it.

Tank seemed to get the picture, and he squeezed Light's shoulder, trying to comfort him. Light winced at the strong pressure, but the pain helped ground him.

"Don't worry man, I got _both_ of your back's. Now how about we grab your friend and get the fuck out of here, huh?" replied Tank.

Light nodded, grabbing the flashlight and pointing it once again at Lawli. Light was honestly surprised to see the man fast asleep, his thumb softly grazing his lips.

"Lawli . . ." whispered Light, and he caught himself before he could touch the other man's face.

Tank suddenly leaned over L. "Hello?" he all but yelled.

Light jumped. "Shhh! What the hell?"

"Dude, I think he's been drugged. No normal person could sleep through the racket we've been making," commented Tank.

Light paused. "You're right, but who would - oh."

Tank gave him a knowing look. "So you remember now, huh? You sly dog."

Light punched the other man lightly on the shoulder. "Not me, you idiot. It's was his, uh, grandfather. Sometimes the man drugs him because he's an insomniac."

"Oh, well, that's the story I'd stick to," said Tank with a grin, and Light knew the other man was joking.

"We can carry him between the two of us, right?" asked Light hesitantly.

Tank rolled his eyes. "I'll get him. You get your stuff. How about that?"

Light nodded, watching with worried eyes as Tank took Lawli in his arms, wishing that he was the one to carry the raven haired man. L looked that same, if not a bit thinner, and Light yearned to touch him, but he held back.

Light threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, thankful that he didn't unpack anything, and followed Tank out of the mansion, surprised that the huge man could be so silent as he deftly navigated the darkened corridors.

* * *

Maybe the cosmos wasn't after him as much as Light previously thought. Okay, so his luck had been pretty bad lately, but if Tank hadn't burst into his hotel room the other morning, and if that stupid ice cream truck hadn't almost _creamed_ Tank, then Light seriously doubted he'd be riding in the back seat of a fairly decent car with Lawli's head resting in his lap while Tank drove them to safety. More than likely, he'd be riding in the _trunk_ of this fairly decent car if his - now questionably - bad luck hadn't struck.

Well, being a killer for hire must pay nicely, if the neighborhood Tank turned into could attest to anything.

Light gazed up at the large house Tank stopped in front of, surprised at it's relative normalcy for belonging to a killer for hire. They were three hours out of Winchester, in some town Light didn't know, in some nice middle-class neighborhood, and frankly, all Light really wanted to do was find a nice dark place to curl up - preferably a windowless room so the sun wouldn't bother him - and sleep. The past twenty four hours had been hell, to say the least.

L stirred, his head moving slightly, and Light froze, expecting the man to awaken, but thankfully L stayed asleep, and Light went back to idly stroking the man's raven locks.

Tank sighed from the front seat. "So what do you think that grandfather of his will do when he discovers his grandson's missing?"

Light winced. Good question. What _would_ Watari do?

"I can't even begin to guess," admitted Light quietly.

"Probably should have left a note or something," muttered Tank.

Light refrained from snorting. "It wouldn't have worked."

Tank shrugged. "Well, guess there's no point in worrying about it now. Let's get the both of you inside. You can put him in the guest room. You can carry him, right? Or do you need help?"

Light shook his head, his fingers unconsciously gripping L's hair. "No, I got him."

Tank nodded, but opened the back door for them all the same. Light carefully extracted himself from the car before heaving L into his arms, praying that the man would stay asleep. He must have had some residual good luck built up, or maybe his bad luck was exhausted, but L stayed asleep, and Light tried to stop the blush as L snuggled into his chest.

Tank chuckled softly, and Light shot him a glare.

"Come on, Asian guy. Let's get your friend upstairs, and then I'll treat you to some coffee. How's that sound?"

"Coffee? Absolutely amazing."

Light gritted his teeth as Tank led him upstairs, his muscles straining underneath L's weight. He was thankful to set the man down in the modest bed, pulling up the blanket that lay draped across the bottom of the bed to tuck in his friend.

Light stared down at L, re-memorizing his features. He had never seen a more welcome sight in his whole life. He gently touched the man's soft hair, letting his fingers linger.

Tank cleared his throat pointedly. "Coffee?"

Light startled. He had almost forgotten the other man was there.

"Please," said Light, following Tank out the door and down the stairs.

Tank brought him to the kitchen, and Light gratefully sat down at the table, his head in his hands. What was he going to do when L woke up? The detective would most definitely freak out.

"So, here's what I figure. That old guy sent me to kill you, right? And of course he wanted me to dispose of your body. Said he didn't want any evidence that you were at the orphanage. So, I'll just tell him the truth, kind of. I went in, shot you, found some strange guy in bed with you, shot him too because I _never_ leave witnesses, and then disposed of both your bodies. There, that should work. He has no reason to suspect anything's shifty. I've been working with him for years, I'd know," said Tank with an appreciative nod.

"And when will you get the chance to talk to him?" asked Light skeptically, keeping his head in his hands.

"Oh, he always calls the next morning to make sure everything went well," commented Tank, flipping on the coffee machine.

"Just how often do you work for Roger?" asked Light, lifting his head to regard Tank in curiosity.

Tank shrugged. "Old dude's been a customer for a long time. I'll get a job from him a few times a year or so."

Light sighed, before sitting up straighter as a sudden thought crossed his mind. "Wouldn't shooting me have been a bad idea? What if someone had heard the gun?"

"That's what the silencer's for, Asian guy!" chuckled Tank.

"Oh, right," mumbled Light. He should have figured that.

"Here, drown your sorrows," said Tank, setting down a mug filled with to the rim with delicious, black coffee.

"You remembered. I'm touched," said Light upon seeing the darkened brew.

"Well, it's not like I didn't buy you coffee yesterday morning or anything," smiled Tank, sipping at his own cup.

Light closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. He didn't know how much longer he had left before L would wake up, but surely it wasn't that long. The wait was killing him though. It felt like he was counting down the minutes to his execution.

"So what's up with that guy upstairs? You seemed pretty surprised to see him, even though he was lying in your bed and all," said Tank, regarding Light with wide-eyed curiosity over his mug of coffee.

Light groaned. "I _was_ surprised to see him. I still don't think I've quite grasped the situation, to tell you the truth. I didn't even know he was in bed with me! I wasn't in bed five minutes before your burst in, so right when I was figuring out I wasn't the only one in the room, you came in, and the fact that someone was in my bed took backseat to you and your _bloody_ gun."

"Yeah, uh, I'm real sorry about that," apologized Tank, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Light waved away his apology. "Honestly, Tank. I'm getting used to it. It's fine."

Tank laughed, and Light jumped at the huge man's booming tenor. "But you obviously know the guy, right?"

Light hit his head hard against the table.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," said Tank sagely.

Light growled. "Would you believe that he thinks I'm dead? He _honestly believes_ that I died weeks ago. Hell, they even had a _bloody funeral_ for me! What the hell is he going to do when he wakes up to find that not only has he _been kidnapped_, but he's been kidnapped by his supposedly _dead friend_ - and a killer for hire?"

Tank blinked. "Wow. He thinks you're dead? Seriously? Jeez, man. I don't know what he'll do when he wakes up. I mean, dead? That's seriously fucked up, and I really want to hear that story, but I want to get at least an hour of sleep before old dick head calls. So tell it to me later, alright?"

Light nodded miserably. "I guess I better head upstairs. Suppose I should just hit him all at once with all this madness. Maybe my presence alone will shock him so bad I'll have time to explain where we are before he tries to kill me."

"It's as good a plan as any," agreed Tank, putting his mug into the kitchen sink.

"Hey, Tank?" asked Light, his voice hesitant, stopping Tank half way out the door.

"Yeah, Asian guy?" replied Tank, looking back over his shoulder.

"Thanks," said Light simply.

Tank threw him a crooked smile. "I got your back, Asian guy."

* * *

L hated Watari.

It was just that simple.

Because Watari had tricked him - _again_ - and now L was half-awake and fuzzy from the drugs. It would take him at least another five minutes before he could shake off the after-effects, and even then, he'd be paranoid about accepting tea from the older man for at least a month before he wouldn't wonder what could be lurking at the bottom of his teacup.

Then, it would eventually happen again. It always did, and L could honestly say that he hated Watari at that horrible, disorienting moment between sleep and consciousness. Of course, when he was fully awake, he'd probably think hating Watari a little harsh, but right now, L was going to bask in his annoyance. He felt entitled.

L kept his eyes shut, because he could sense the light on the other side of his eyelids, and he was wasn't quite ready to face the day, he stretched a bit before snuggling back down against his pillow. He flexed his nostrils. Hmm, his nose itched a bit, but he just didn't have the energy to scratch it.

His ears perked at the quiet opening on his bedroom door, and L frowned minutely. Stupid Watari. No doubt he was bringing L some concoction or other. He just really hoped the tea wasn't drugged this time. Watari had once drugged him twice in a row. L didn't speak to the man for a week.

He could feel the presence of the other man hovering over him, and L grudgingly cracked open his eyes.

Yagami Raito stood above him, staring at him with one of those patented 'deer in the headlights' look.

L smiled slightly. Mmm, nice dream.

He closed his eyes again.

. . .

. . .

. . . _Wait_ . . .

L's eyes snapped open in horror.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: . . . . . .**

Ahhh, it feels good to be me.

Really good.

_Sinfully_ good.

XD


	22. Lover's Quarrel

**A/N: **Heeeey you guys!

**OH MY GOD! MORE FANART!** Seriously, check out my profile! It's just suddenly BURSTING with fanart, and the links are all there! Thank you so much **ileranerak** and **LxLight is the best!** for the awesome awesome AWESOME fanart! It's amazing and beautiful and oh so ooey gooey wonderful!

**And just to say --- **People who read this! YOU are what makes writing so worthwhile! Thank you, every single one of you, who have taken the time to say a little something, whether it be praise or death threats, I've loved every single word!

Okay, am I missing something? I feel like I am. Hope not, but I can always come back and edit.

**(((came back to edit! -_-::!)))**

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop or its awesome theme song. Seriously, look it up. Very classy cool!

. . . .

XD

Here you go, guys.

It's THE chapter you've all been waiting for.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Lover's Quarrel_

* * *

Tank blearily cracked open his eyes, trying to blink away the built up grit that had accumulated over the past hour he'd been asleep. He glared at the mobile phone sitting innocently on his bedside table, the theme song from Cowboy Bebop warbling out from its speakers.

"Goddamn geriatric fuck," he muttered, grabbing the phone and flipping it open.

"Yeah?" he grunted, rubbing at his eyes.

"Tank, my friend. I trust that all went well last evening?" came the garbled voice on the other end.

Tank rolled his eyes. Some people were so picky about who got to hear their real voice.

"You could say that. Ran into a little snag, though. Sorry if he was someone you knew, but I figured you'd want me to keep your ass covered," yawned Tank. He wondered if there was any pancake mix left. Man, he wanted some pancakes.

There was a pause on the other end. "I'm afraid I do not understand."

Pancakes with blueberries . . .

"Huh? Oh, yeah, that guy. The one that was sleeping in the same bed with Layfield. Yeah, had to scratch him too. Sorry, but he saw me kill Layfield. Don't worry though, I got rid of them both. Already burned the bodies and everything, so you're good to go. Though, I hope no one's going to miss that guy. I'd probably plant a suicide note, or send yourself a postcard, or something. You know, just in case," said Tank, trying to keep the grin off his face.

Dead silence greeted his explanation. Tank bit his knuckle. Now was not the time to start laughing. He straightened his face, thinking about serious things - like pancakes. He really didn't want to drive all the way to the store. Maybe there was some mix -

"There was a man _in bed_ with Layfield?"

The voice distorter really didn't convey emotions very well, but Tank imagined that the old man was surprised. Surprised . . . surprise . . . surprise parties . . . cake . . . sprinkles? Did he have sprinkles? And could he cook them in a pancake? Man, that would be an awesome pancake.

"Oh, what? Uh, yeah, he was a pretty weird looking fellow. He had some crazy-ass black hair that stuck out every which a way and bags under his eyes like you wouldn't believe. I was surprised to find the dude sleeping. Looked like he didn't partake much, if you know what I mean. And he was sleeping in his clothes too. White shirt, blue jeans. At least he took off his shoes, huh? Yeah, he's dead. Like I said, sorry if you knew him, but you always pay me extra to leave no witnesses, right?" said Tank.

The man on the other line made a strangled noise, and through the voice distorter, it sounded particularly odd. Sort of like a dying giraffe, or something. Tank scratched his head. What would a dying giraffe sound like anyway? Would the old man sound like a dying giraffe if Tank killed him? Well, the old man wasn't dying now, at least Tank thought he wasn't, but who could tell with old people? Maybe Tank would get a chance to experiment one day, see if the old man would sound like that again if Tank took his -

"_He's dead_?!"

Tank almost, _almost_ snorted. "Well, yeah. What was I supposed to do? Ask how he liked my work and give him a card?"

The other line went dead, and Tank smiled brightly to himself.

Whoever that funny looking guy was, he must be important. That old man never just _hung up_ like that. Ah, well, it was none of his business, and besides, that just made it all the more fun.

A sudden crash sounded from upstairs. Tank looked at the ceiling. Huh. Probably from the guest bedroom, if Tank was figuring right. It sounded like it was from that part of the house, after all. Maybe he should -

Now it sounded like someone was getting their head rammed against the floor.

Tank smirked. Who was he to butt into a lover's quarrel, anyway? Ha, _lover's quarrel_. Asian guy seemed awfully protective of the weird looking dude. Tank wasn't completely oblivious to how Asian guy kept touching the other man's hair. Maybe it _was_ a lover's quarrel.

Oh, now he could hear shouting. And, yes, there's another thump. He chuckled, snuggling back down underneath his blanket.

Let them have their lover's quarrel.

Tank had much more important things to do than to bother those two.

* * *

L hated the supernatural.

Absolutely _despised_ it.

Ever since he was a young child, the supernatural had always been a source of great fear for him. There was nothing natural about the supernatural, and he couldn't really see what was so 'super' about it either.

Supernatural things could not be rationalized through logic or careful calculations. It took a certain amount of faith to deal with the supernatural, because nothing about it would or could ever be explained.

L was a man of science, of logic, of cold, harsh reality.

He was not a man of faith.

However, there had always been a lingering doubt, a fear, that would creep upon him in the dark hours of the night.

L would then calmly turn on a light, and his fears would retreat.

He began work on the Kira case knowing that the percentage of Kira killing through supernatural means was relatively high. However, L was never one to back down from a challenge, and if part of that challenge involved overcoming his fear of the supernatural, then L was just that much more determined to win.

Then came the shinigami, and suddenly, the supernatural wasn't something lurking in the darkened corners of his room at night.

It was real.

It was tangible.

And it was dangerous.

The idea that gods of death actually existed had - initially - frightened him badly. However, as time passed and more was discovered about the grotesque creatures, L wasn't so frightened anymore. He couldn't _logically_ explain how the shinigami existed, but he could see what it looked like, how it acted, how it killed, and _that_ gave him knowledge. Knowledge truly was power, and that power enabled him to overcome his fear of the creatures.

But _ghosts_ . . .?

Ghosts were another issue entirely.

And the ghost of Yagami Raito was staring down at him with the most peculiar expression. He looked like he was either going to retch or cry, but the expression was entirely frightening all the same. So L did the only thing he knew of when threatened with something that scared him badly.

He lashed out.

And L was surprised to see that ghosts could bleed.

* * *

He really should have _expected it_, but he didn't.

He really should have _ducked_, but he didn't.

And L's foot crashed into his face with lightning speed.

"OWW! SHIT!" yelled Light, grasping his nose. Blood spurted through his fingers.

L jumped to the floor, and crotched in that ridiculous fighting stance he always took, staring at him with wide eyes. Light could barely make out the look of shock etched into the other man's face through the tears of pain that had welled in his eyes.

"_I think you broke my nose_!" exclaimed Light, glowering as best as he could at L. He wasn't so nervous about the other man's reaction to all of this now. Oh hell no. Frankly, he was in so much pain that he didn't even care what the other man would think about finding Light hovering over him.

Light's anger was spurred by the throbbing pain in his nose.

He didn't think that L was so stunned that he wouldn't move, but Light was vengefully satisfied when L was thrown back from the vicious punch that Light landed on the other man's face.

L slammed into the wall with a grunt, using the solid surface to push off quickly and throw himself back at Light, who was prepared, his fist slamming into L's stomach right as L's foot connected with Light's hip. L got him again in the chin as the detective went down, and Light's head snapped back, blood newly flowing.

The momentum of L's kick to the chin threw him to the ground along with L, who was suddenly on top of him.

The fight continued on the floor, both of them grappling, rolling over the other - punches and kicks and elbows and knees landing whatever hit on the other they could.

After a particularly vicious kick to the chest, Light decided it was about time to diffuse the situation before any greater damage was done to his person.

"_WOULD YOU STOP IT_!?" he finally yelled. Light accidentally elbowed L in the temple while trying to disentangle himself from the other man. L didn't seem to believe it was an accident, grabbing onto Light.

"_YOU'RE - SUPPOSED - TO BE - DEAD_!" shouted L, emphasizing his point by slamming Light's head against the floor repeatedly, keeping Light pinned down with the weight of his body.

"_SO_!?" exclaimed Light, slamming his own head against L's when the man had managed to top him.

The force of the collision sent the detective reeling, and Light managed to free himself, rolling to his feet, but he was dizzy and wobbled.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SO?! _SO_?! YOU'RE DEAD! _YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD_!" yelled L, standing up to face Light.

Light felt the anger dissipate with amazing speed, just as quickly being replaced with guilt. Light could actually _see_ what his death had done to Lawli, and his heart ached at the pain that was very apparent in his friend's eyes, no matter how hard L tried to hide it.

Light tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes and calm his wheezy, heavy breathing.

L stood, glaring at him fiercely, his fists clenched and breathing just as labored as Light's was. Light noticed a fine sheen of sweat coating L's skin, and though he hadn't managed to draw blood, Light winced at seeing own blood smeared across L's once pristine white shirt.

Suddenly, L crumpled to the floor. Light started forward, his arm outstretched, but stopped and let his arm fall back to his side when it was apparent that L had not fallen to the ground because Light had managed to seriously hurt him.

Light all the sudden felt very unsure of himself.

L hugged his knees in tight, staring at Light with wide eyes. Confusion, anger, pain, and grief warred for dominance across his face before finally settling on a cold, wary mask that hid all of L's conflicting emotions.

Light took a step forward.

L flinched, causing Light to freeze in his movements.

Not really knowing what else to do, Light slowly lowered himself to the floor.

"Ryuuzaki?" asked Light hesitantly, relieved that he hadn't alluded to L's true identity in a killer for hire's house, and even more relieved he hadn't slipped up and called the detective 'Lawli' as he was prone to do sometimes in his mind.

L closed his eyes tight, ignoring him.

Light all but held his breath before the other man's eyes snapped open once again, expectancy melting to despair upon seeing that Light was still sitting quietly a few feet away.

"I've lost my mind," whispered L, his voice heavy with sorrow. The man's mask cracked just enough for Light to see a devastated expression flash across L's face. It made Light's heart twinge.

"No, you haven't," assured Light, shaking his head slightly.

"You're dead," continued L, staring unblinkingly at him, and Light was surprised to hear L say such a thing so calmly. It was a contrast to a few moments ago.

"No, I'm not," replied Light, wincing slightly.

"I held your dead body in my arms, I felt you grow cold and stiff, I sent your body to the morgue, where it stayed until your funeral, and then I _buried_ you Yagami Raito. _I buried you six feet under ground_. So why have you come back to haunt me?" asked L quietly, almost desperately.

Light saw that L was watching him, taking in every nuance, every twitch, every _flinch_ as those words silently tore at Light's heart.

"Well -" began Light haltingly, bracing himself, "What you say is true, but I wasn't _really_ dead. It was all a ruse, I -"

"A ruse?" interrupted L.

Light paused, before nodding in agreement.

"You did not take your own life?" pressed L, leaning forward.

Light's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?! Kill myself?! I would never kill myself!" shouted Light, shocked that L would think such a thing.

"You were killed by Kira," stated L, his voice once again monotonous and unemotional.

Light hesitated.

"You _are _Kira," continued L pointedly.

Light stared at the other man, at a loss for words. Luckily, L saved him from responding.

"Misa is the second Kira, and she would never lift a finger against you. Higuchi was the third Kira, and you killed him. You, a healthy young man, died of a heart attack all by yourself in an enclosed, fortified room that locked from the outside. The only obvious conclusion that I can draw from these facts, taking into consideration that you are the first Kira, is . . ." L trailed off, biting his thumb viciously.

"That I committed suicide," finished Light quietly, understanding how L could have come to that conclusion.

"Correct," said L around his thumb.

"But I thought you didn't believe I was Kira?" asked Light, his mind reeling at this turn of events.

"I did not want to believe that you were Kira. When you died, I assumed that Kira had murdered you," said L.

"What changed your mind?" asked Light, confused.

"Besides the fact that you are alive and sitting in front of me? Rem."

_Rem?_ "What did she do?"

"She confirmed to me the nature of your true identity. She was extremely heartened by your death," commented L. It seemed as if the other man had well and regained his composure. He watched Light warily.

Light shrugged. "I'm not surprised. Rem hated me."

"So I gathered."

L stared at him, and Light stared at the floor. An awkward silence descended upon them. It was L that broke it.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked, quirking his head the slightest bit.

The question was so unexpected that Light snorted in amused surprise. "Obviously not. From what I hear, ghosts don't get into fist fights."

"Not that long ago, killer notebooks and gods of death were nothing but fairytales. You were dead, Raito. I know you were dead," said L, his fingers twitching against his pants leg.

"Well, that was the idea. I was actually under the influence of pentalinium oroxide," said Light slowly, wondering if L knew what the compound did.

"Pentalinium oroxide?" muttered L, his eyes widening slightly in understanding.

"Yeah. Works like a charm."

L was silent, and he studied Light with dark eyes. Light stopped himself from fidgeting under the heavy gaze. Right before the silence turned particularly unnerving, L spoke, his voice heavy.

"I can only assume that this is all apart of an elaborate scheme that you have masterminded in order to continue your work as Kira. With Yagami Raito dead, it will be much harder for Kira to be caught."

Light blinked. "Wait, that's not exactly -"

"And you somehow found out my location, infiltrated the premises, kidnapped me, and took me back to your place of refuge. Towards what end, I am unsure. However, I suspect that you intend to kill me," continued L, as if Light hadn't spoken.

Light's jaw slackened. "I'm not going to - !"

"I did not foresee this turn of events, but I suppose it would only be logical for you to cover all bases. My death is a necessity. Hmm, congratulation, Kira. It seems that you have won," said L, his face hardened and his voice dead.

Light was infuriated to see L looking like he was _preparing_ for death. Even the detective's consistently bad posture straightened out a bit, as if Light was going to whip out a knife and gut him right then and there.

This made Light _especially_ angry.

"Now wait just a minute! You've got it _all wrong_!" shouted Light, frustration lacing his words.

L said nothing, shooting Light a knowing look. It was obvious that L did not believe him.

Light slammed his fist against the floor. "Why do you always have to be such an idiot?!"

L frowned. "I assure you, Kira. My intelligence level far exceeds -"

"_Fuck your intelligence level_! You're an idiot!" shouted Light.

"If you wish to continue our fight, Kira, all you had to do was ask," said L quietly. Light growled.

"_Goddamnit_, Lawli! Why can't you just -" Light stopped himself, stunned.

L froze, zeroing in on his slip like a bloodhound.

"What did you just call me?" asked L quickly. It was apparent that L had a good idea of just what Light had said - if L clenching his blue jeans so hard his knuckles were turning white was anything to go by.

Light stared at L, at a loss for words. What could he say? He really didn't want to tell L the truth now. He was hoping to space it out, tell him after all of this 'I thought you were dead' stuff had blown over.

"_What did you say, Kira_?" repeated L, and he wasn't monotonous any longer. L's voice held a dangerous edge to it.

"I said . . ." Light trailed off. What could he say? Damn.

"Yes?" demanded L harshly.

Light sighed. "Look, Ryuuzaki, just let me explain -"

"_What did you say_?!"

"I said _Lawliet_, okay?!" shouted Light, praying the detective would buy it.

L's face remained hardened. "It didn't sound like Lawliet!"

"If you'd just give me time to explain without you interrupting me at every turn, then maybe you'd already know!" exclaimed Light, resisting the urge to punch the infuriating detective. He was ready to throw himself at the other man.

L sensed Light's growing hostility, and he held up a hand to staunch Light's movements in a parody of calm. Fuck Lawli. Light could tell that the detective was just about as calm as Light was. L was just better at hiding it. Light was positively itching to punch the infuriating man once again.

"Fine. I will listen, but your explanation better be good," acquiesced L, glaring.

Light blew out his breath in a huff. Stupid Lawli.

"_Fine_ then. You know I was Kira -"

"_Was_?" interrupted L, giving Light an incredulous look. It was obvious that the other man found it hard to believe him.

"Damn it, Ryuuzaki. Just shut up and let me talk," yelled Light.

L didn't respond, and Light took that as his sign to continue.

"I was Kira, but I'm _not _now. I can't explain exactly how the Death Note works, but I'm pretty sure that it influences the owner, changing them so subtly that the owner won't even know it's happening until it's too late. By that time, the owner won't even care.

When you put me in confinement the first time, I gave up ownership of the Death Note. When someone gives up ownership, they lose all of their memories associated with it. I ceased to be Kira in that cell, and when I touched Higuchi's notebook, my memories returned to me. I was Kira again, but Kira's influence over me was weakened. My memories had been separated for too long, and then when I realized -" Light suddenly stopped.

How could he explain to L that the reason Light had been able to overcome the darkness within himself was because of his desire to protect Lawli from Kira?

L's eyes narrowed. "It was when you said my name, my real name, wasn't it? What does my name have to do with this?"

_Everything_. Light wished he could say it, but his throat was constricted.

Suddenly, L sighed, his tense posture falling away. He slumped and rubbed his face, looking exhausted. It was such a human reaction that Light was momentarily surprised. He had never seen L the detective so expressive in his actions before. It was like Light was looking at Lawli as he once had been.

"I am very tired of the games we play, Raito-kun. I do not know if you are lying or telling the truth. I am not a man of faith, and your previous actions have won you very little trust with me. All I want is the truth, Raito-kun. All I want to know is the truth," pleaded L.

Light swallowed hard, knewing that the time had finally come. "T-The truth? You want the truth?"

L nodded, staring intensely into Light's eyes.

"I didn't want to be Kira anymore when I realized that my greatest adversary was also my greatest friend," whispered Light.

There. That was the truth - every single word of it.

"Your greatest friend?" echoed L faintly.

"Yeah, my best friend. My only friend . . . I thought you were dead, too, you know," said Light, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

L looked confused. "You thought I was dead? That doesn't make any sense. Why - ?"

Light shook his head roughly. "It's me, Lawli. It's Light."

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **OH, sniffle, tear! I've been waiting for this moment practically the entire story!

I hope it didn't disappoint! This chapter gave me some trouble, for sure. I've never rewritten a chapter so many times before! Ugh!

So, let me know your opinion on the matter!

XD I suspect that I shall hit 1,000 reviews with this pretty soon. Man, that is exciting. I can't believe I've actually reached a life goal 7 years in the making. XP

So, **SAY SOMETHING**, even if it's just a little something, and if anyone feels up to doing fanart or youtube videos, please, have at it. It really brings the story to life for me when I get those awesome visuals, and I know everyone else loves looking at the art too!

**And once again, thank you all for your continued support, gracious words and death threats, beautiful fanart, and for helping me reach over 1,000 reviews!!!!!!!!**

**I love you guys. 3**


	23. Interlude: The Naked Mile

**A/N: **Oh my God. I HATE WORKING FULL TIME IN A DULL OFFICE! Fucking 8 hours a day. 8AM to 5PM. Good lord.

Screw this, dude. Imma be a hobo.

Hah. Yeah, anyway.

**READ THIS! IT'S VERY VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT!**

Sooo, yeah, guess what? **This isnt' the next chapter.**

I'm sure you're all like, "Huh? What the fuck!? NO! That bitch!"

Yeah, I know.

**This is a chapter, but it isn't the next chapter. It's an interlude. Or, more precisely, a "what could have happened."**

**So, here you go. AGAIN. It's _THE CHAPTER_ . . . again. Just in a different way.**

**XD**

_**Oh, and if you want a visual of Tank, I put his picture under my fanart section on my profile. I tweaked a pic I found on the net. XD**_

**This Interlude is inspired by and dedicated to _Ileranerak_ and the awesome fanart of L and Light (with NAKED!Light) It's rated PG, seriously though. Check it out! Link on my profile**!

* * *

**Where to place this chapter in your head.**

_Remember last chapter? Or, erm, that OTHER last chapter behind the last one? Okay, in this Alternate Universe of AOD, Tank didn't leave right after Light saved his life from that rampaging ice cream truck. Instead, Tank is just so god darned thankful, he's decided that he is going to treat Light out to a night on the town in London (which, remember, is only an hour out of Winchester (according to google, by any means))._ _So for this chapter (and only this chapter!), forget what happened after the ice cream truck incident, and instead, insert chapter below._

_So, here we go. Cue scene!_

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Interlude - __The Naked Mile_

* * *

"But I had plans to -"

"Oh no you don't, Asian guy! Can't they be put aside for a bit? I mean, come on! You just saved my life! The birds are singing, the air is sweet, and I swear colors are brighter or some shit like that! I owe you my life, man! Please?" wheedled Tank.

Light stared at the other man incredulously. Was this guy for real? Was he _actually_ a killer for hire? This mountain of a man was practically childish in his enthusiasm to spend the evening with Light.

"Oh, come on! Come on!" exclaimed the huge man, pumping his fist.

Point made.

Light took an involuntary step back and tried to look at the situation logically. What was worse? Saying no to a killer for hire, saying no to a _childish_ killer for hire, or just agreeing to go along for the insanity?

Well, he really didn't want to offend Tank, but at the same time, he had no desire for Tank to "treat" him out to a night on the town.

So Light tried again to get out of it once again.

"But you already gave me you card! I can call you to kill people for me, remember?" tried Light, knowing that the chances of what he just said dissuading the other man were slim at best.

"Which still stands! It's just part of what I'm going to do for you! Come on, Asian guy! I mean, look at you! You're just so - so - _so Asian_! I can just tell from looking at you that you need to loosen up!" exclaimed Tank, gesturing at Light.

Light frowned, looking down at what he was wearing. What was wrong with nice slacks and a button up? Hell, he'd even taken time to shine his shoes this morning. He was the picture of perfection - minus his facial injuries, of course.

What could Tank possibly see wrong with - oh.

He studied the other man's attire. Tank wore a tight, short sleeved black muscle shirt. He also wore a pair of loose camouflaged cargo pants with a slew of pockets that Light could only guess the contents of. The man's feet were adorned with thick, heavy boots that were splattered with mud, and a single gold hoop earring sat in one ear.

All in all, Tank looked like a bouncer. Or, with that outfit, maybe a soldier, but considering what the man did for a living, probably a bounty hunter.

Tank wiggled his eyebrows, interrupting Light's train of thought. "You know you want to, Asian guy. Just bend to peer pressure and say yes."

Tank made sure to end his plea with an extra enthusiastic eyebrow wiggle.

Light felt his mouth twitch, and his resolve not to smile at the ridiculous sight cracked.

"Uh oh! Was that a smile? Should I take that as a yes? Wait, don't tell me! I'm going to anyway. I'll pick you up around seven tonight! And don't worry, I know where you stay!" laughed Tank, whirling away.

"Wait -" started Light, but the man was already down the sidewalk.

"I didn't agree to anything!" called Light in exasperation.

He sighed, resigning himself. Well, staying in the man's good graces was plain common sense. Besides, Tank might prove useful to him in the future.

He shuffled his feet, kicking a rock as he turned back to his motel.

Light would have to put off meeting his relative for another day, so he had until seven this evening before Tank would pick him up. Maybe he would spend the time watching television in the motel room? He could order pizza for lunch or something.

Light suddenly felt better. Yeah, a day spent doing nothing but lying in bed, eating pizza, and watching television. He didn't think he had ever wasted a day like that before. It sounded nice.

Maybe Tank would prove to be a blessing in disguise.

* * *

Light was convinced that Tank was the spawn of Satan.

It wasn't the old two door car that spluttered and smoked. It wasn't even the scary grin that Tank shot him upon picking him up. No, it was the man's driving that convinced Light that Tank was something wholly evil.

And he was frightened not only for his life, but for others as well.

"Watch out!" yelled Light, pointing at the road.

Too late.

_KADUNK._

"Aw, fuck yeah!" crowed Tank.

"That was a cat! You _purposefully swerved_ to hit a cat!" exclaimed Light, giving the man an incredulous look while subtly checking to make sure his seatbelt was secure.

"I know, right? Yeah! Ten points!" grinned Tank. The man suddenly reached in between Light's legs, letting the car swerve dangerously close to the opposite lane.

Light's eyes widened. "Hey! What are you -!?"

But Tank was upright before Light could finish, a notepad in his hand. It must have been on the floor.

"Take the wheel for me, would you Asian guy?" asked Tank, suddenly letting go of the wheel.

Light grabbed it before the car could run off the road. "Christ! Tank!"

"Oh, _relax_ Asian guy. I just have to make a note of that cat. There we go! Fifth cat this month," commented Tank with a smile, throwing the notepad back onto the floor. It landed on Light's foot. He kicked it off.

"You keep a record of your road kill?" asked Light, torn between morbid amusement and disgust.

Tank laughed, taking back the wheel. "I've got a running bet with a friend of mine."

"I don't even want to know," muttered Light to himself.

Tank ignored him.

"So, Asian guy. We're almost there. Excited?" asked Tank, smirking devilishly.

"Truthfully? Not at all," said Light, his voice deadpanned.

Tank threw his head back and laughed. Light twitched nervously, ready to grab the wheel from the other man if need be.

"You've never been to Brody's, right? You'll love it," promised Tank.

Light gave the man a dubious look, but chose to keep his mouth shut.

"So, this place is a club?" asked Light.

Tank shrugged. "More like a bar, then anything, but yeah. It's kind of like a club. Buddy of mine owns the joint. Real nice fellow. He'd like you."

Light made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. A sudden, horrid thought entered his mind, and he couldn't help but ask Tank about it.

"Hey, Tank? They don't, uh, do anything - funny - at this bar or club of yours, do they?" asked Light.

Tank glanced at him sideways. "Define 'funny.'"

Light had to think for a moment on exactly how he should phrase it.

"Well, do people urinate on one another?" asked Light, opting for the simple and direct approach. He remembered what his uncle had said not too long ago, and he dearly hoped that clubs like that didn't exist. Especially if there was a chance that Tank could be taking him someplace like that.

Tank shook his head, seemingly serious for once. "Oh, no. Not at Brody's. They do that at Golden Showers, though. Now that's a club! I've only been there a couple of times. Wasn't really my scene, but fun all the same."

Light studied Tank incredulously. He honestly didn't know whether Tank was joking or not. Frankly, he thought it would probably be best if he didn't ask.

"Oh, and Asian guy? We'll be meeting some of my buddies tonight. You're not overly attached to your pants, are you?" asked Tank with a smirk.

Light subconsciously clenched his legs tighter together, getting a real bad feeling.

"Why do you ask?" he asked warily.

Tank shrugged. "No reason. Just wondering. You know, because your pants are boring and Asian and what not."

"_Right_," said Light, not convinced in the least.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

As it turned out, no, Light wasn't overly attached to his pants.

As the patrons of Brody's soon learned, Light wasn't really attached to_ anything_ he wore.

Actual strip poker, as Light grudgingly found out, was much more fun then mental strip poker.

Frankly, strip poker would have been one of those things that reminded him of Lawli, which in turn would have made Light depressed, then angry, and then he'd finally settle on guilty before he resolved to forget the incident entirely and carry on with his life.

This _should_ have happened to Light.

But it didn't.

Because Light was barely capable of untangling his underwear from his feet after all the alcohol that Tank had shoved down his throat.

Light would be angry at himself - and at Tank - later. He had specifically asked the bartender that any and all drinks that Tank insisted on buying for him would be of the virgin variety. Obviously, the bartender hadn't taken his polite request to heart, and Light was a poor judge of a virgin beverage.

Sober, Light was a good poker player. Drunk, Light lost within the first three rounds.

And then came the stupidest stunt that Light had ever pulled in his entire life.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened. All he could remember was the intense desire to find a fast food restaurant, and then he was running down the street in the dead of night in search of french fries.

Trouble was, he'd forgotten his clothes.

In his haze of alcohol induced mania, Light had taken a midnight run down the streets of London naked as the day he was born. Those few who had been out and about at such a late hour had steered clear of him, many even crossing the street to avoid being on the same sidewalk.

Eventually, the buildings got smaller and smaller, and then disappeared altogether.

Light hadn't a clue as to how long he had been running. He had forgotten the reason he was running ages ago, and he only acted on the feeling that if he stopped, he'd be caught. He didn't know who would catch him, but irrational fear pushed him on. That, and a lingering yearning for fried food.

Then he stumbled and fell onto rocky pavement.

It was the pain, the cold, and the inevitable vomiting that cleared Light's head enough for him to realize that he was lost in the middle of no where without any clothes on.

It was at that moment that he deemed himself a failure at life. What kind of idiot ran out of a bar without a stitch of clothing on? Especially when it was so cold? The drunk kind, obviously, and Light was ashamed and disgusted to admit that he had been (and probably still was) that drunk idiot.

Light lay where he fell, too tired to move.

Although he wasn't wearing any clothes, he still had his wristwatch. It took him a moment to figure out the time in the dark, but he found that it was nearing four o'clock in the morning.

He let his arm fall limply to the ground, and he looked around him. Trees. Lots of trees, but there was the tell tale orange glow in the sky, indicative of a city in the distance. London. The bar that Tank had taken him too had been right on the outskirts of the city. Otherwise, Light probably wouldn't have made it as far as he had without being reported or picked up.

Well damn. His life was turning into a bad college movie. Light groaned. If he wanted his clothes back, he'd have to run back to Brody's. God, he hoped Tank was still there. The man was his ride back to the motel.

Light shook his head, wincing at the jarring pain. He vaguely remembered hitting his when he fell. Memories of the past few hours were blurry, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but Light was sober enough to realize that passing out naked by the side of the road was an all around _bad_ idea.

A questionably sober Light hesitantly picked himself up off the ground.

Man, was he screwed. It was going to be a long run back, but hopefully if he stayed in a straight line, he'd run into that godforsaken bar. Surely he hadn't taken any turns? He didn't remember.

With a resigned sigh and a dreadful feeling churning in his stomach, Light turned back towards London. Maybe nobody would see him. It wasn't quite four in the morning yet, after all. Not many people would be out. And those that weren't probably wouldn't care - hopefully.

Light was angry and irritable, exhausted and a bit hungry, and not to mention, completely and utterly disgusted with himself. Never in his right mind would he do something like this. Light had never been one to have the dreaded 'naked at school' dream, but now he felt fairly confident that he knew why that dream was so hated.

He was never touching alcohol again - 'virgin' or not.

Light took off down the road at a slow jog, stumbling a bit as he did so. Walking wasn't an option if he wanted to get back to the bar quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was prolong his time outdoors. He shivered. Apparently, drunk people didn't notice the cold as much. Now, however, the cold bit at his exposed skin.

His life was just one miserable affair after the other, and Light indulged in feeling sorry for himself until a sudden life crested a hill. Then he just felt ill.

It was a car.

Now Light really felt sorry for himself.

The bottom of his stomach dropped when the headlights appeared in the distance, heading in the opposite direction that he was running. Light steadfastly kept his eyes on the road, picking up the pace a bit. Maybe if he just ignored it? Maybe it would keep on driving? Maybe -

The car slowed and stopped.

Light diligently kept his eyes glued in front of him, determined to pretend that the car wasn't even there. That was until a voice called out from the rolled down window.

"Are you in need of assistance?" yelled the voice.

Despite himself, Light paused, stopping to stare into the darkened car.

"I can help you get where you're trying to go, young man," called the voice, and Light noted that it sounded like an elderly man.

Hmm. Decisions, decisions. Light hesitated, his mind in turmoil. He would love to be under the cover of a car. He felt extraordinarily exposed running down the streets without clothes on. But what if this old man was some sort of psycho that wanted to kill him?

Or worse. A pervert?

"It's supposed to rain sometime in the very early morning," added the man.

Rain? That sounded cold. He'd heard that hypothermia wasn't pleasant. Light rolled his eyes to himself. Well, fine then. If the old man tried anything, Light wasn't completely defenseless. Besides, Light was on a role when it came to doing incredibly stupid things. A little more certainly wouldn't hurt - especially if there was a chance that the old man genuinely wanted to help Light get back to the bar.

He jogged across the road to the car, opening the backdoor and throwing himself in quickly.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate -"

Light froze.

If the driver was looking at him in shock, then the passenger was looking at him in abject horror.

"Oh,_ fuck_," said Light, starring at the two in numb shock.

Watari's mouth was hanging open, clearly at a loss for words. L looked frightened out of his wits, and Light would bet that the detective was either about to attack him or jump out of the car. Either way, it didn't look too good for him.

Light subtly tried the door handle, only to find it locked.

Well then.

He was fucked.

Light shifted uncomfortably, keenly aware at how naked he really was. L was sitting in the backseat with him, but had pushed himself to the far corner of the car as far away from Light as possible.

"_You're dead_," whispered L in disbelief. Light was slightly concerned to hear it bordering on hysteria.

Light laughed uncomfortably, trying in vain to lighten the situation. Good God. He must have still been a little drunk.

"Uh, I got better?" he tried.

"You see him too, right Watari? It's not just me?" continued L, ignoring Light's answer.

"Y-Yes, L. I see him, but I don't know how it's possible," confirmed Watari shakily.

"Are you real?" asked L, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Light nodded slowly. He actually had to think about that one for a moment. "Probably."

"Why are you alive? The only thing we found of you was a kidney. The rest of you should be scattered to the four corners of the globe by now," questioned L, jamming his thumb between his teeth.

Light could tell that this whole situation really hadn't sunk in for the detective. Truthfully, Light felt a little surreal himself, but he answered L all the same, perhaps a bit more bluntly than he would have done completely sober.

"Um, well, I didn't really die. My father faked my death and got me out of the country. Apparently, an old family friend is trying to kill me, and I've been trying to find out who the man is and why he wants me dead. It was all a sham concocted by my father - my death and everything. I had no idea what was going on until you had already had the funeral and I was on my way to the airport," explained Light, only slightly slurring his words.

L blinked slowly. "You're drunk."

Light frowned. "Yeah, probably.

L looked at Watari, obviously at a loss. Watari only shrugged, still staring at Light in shock.

Light bit his own lip nervously and stared at the detective. God, how he'd missed Lawli. Everything about the man was beautiful. Light loved to just look at him. His face, his eyes, his hair - everything about the man was perfect. How could Light have ever thought that he would be able to live without the man in his life? Preposterous.

Light's eyes were drawn to L's lips. Beautiful lips. He wondered what it would be like to -

A foot came up and smashed him in the face.

"OW! FUCK! YOU BASTARD!" yelled Light, grabbing his eye.

"_L_! Was that really necessary?" exclaimed Watari.

"That was for making me think you were dead," said L, his voice fierce.

Light blinked away tears of pain to glare at the other man, sobriety quickly making itself known. Maybe he did deserve that one, but damn, it hurt!

He squinted at L, who met his glare coldly.

Light's mind flashed to night of his escape. He had asked his father how L had taken Light's death. "Bad." That was all his father would say. Something in L's eyes told Light that the man really had taken it badly. L's face was haggard, gaunt, the bags more pronounced. Hell, he even looked skinnier if that was possible.

Light felt a twinge of guilt.

But still, his face had been through enough these past few days. Damn it, Lawli!

"Watari, please drive us to the nearest hotel. I believe we are going to have to postpone our plans," said L, his voice once again monotone.

Even though a part of Light felt that he deserved the kick in the face, he still found himself wanting to punch L. Stupid Lawli. He'd almost forgotten how hard the other man could kick.

Despite his cool appearance, Light caught L shooting him wide eyed glances throughout the silent ride back into London. However, every time Light would turn to look at L dead on, the man would be staring steadfastly away.

Light sighed, rubbing at his eye.

"Yagami-san faked you death? How?" asked L, still not looking at Light.

It was then that Light realized that the reason L might not be looking at him was because Light was still naked.

Light angrily fought down the blush that threatened to make itself known. How utterly embarrassing.

"Pentalinium oroxide," gritted Light, crossing his legs.

Light glanced at L long enough to see the detective's eyes widen slightly.

"Ah," said L in realization.

Light tried not to roll his eyes. L suddenly sat up straighter.

"It wasn't a grave robber. It was Yagami-san. The policeman said that one of the grave robbers was wearing a suit. It was you, wasn't it?" asked L, his penetrating stare never leaving Light's face - thankfully.

Light shot him a look. "Suit wearing grave robbers?"

"That's what the policeman reported. Your father headed the investigation. Two men are currently in jail under charges of robbing your grave and trafficking your organs. They found your kidney, and it was reburied," commented L, a haunted look ghosting across his face.

Light choked. "They found _my_ kidney? And you_ buried_ it? In a coffin? _Just_ a kidney?"

"Yes," answered L, glaring at something unknown.

"Who's kidney was it then?" asked Light incredulously.

L shrugged. "I suspect that your father knows. Or maybe not."

Light bit his lip.

"And someone is trying to kill you. That's why your father went to such lengths to stage your death and smuggle you out of the country," continued L, once again looking at Light, but only in the face.

Light sighed. How could he answer that question without giving too much away? "Yeah, well, that's what he told me."

L frowned at Light's vague answer. "I find your story hard to believe. I can accept that your father helped you escape from me, but only because he somehow found out that I had you in solitary confinement once again. No doubt he was trying to save you. He never believed that you could be Kira."

_Wait . . . what?_

Light opened his mouth, but L cut him off.

"Therefore, seeing as you are still alive and that I have received confirmations from certain, knowledgeable sources, I can only conclude that your confession was true. You are Kira, and you have outwitted me with the aid of your oblivious father. You successfully escaped, leaving me to believe you were dead. However, you made a mistake, Kira."

Light snapped. "Now wait just a minute here -"

"You should have stayed away from the alcohol, Kira. It has proven to be your downfall," continued L, his eyes roving up and down Light's body.

Light flushed, but in anger instead of embarrassment. "That's not it! I'm telling the truth when I said that a man was -"

"Telling the truth? Really? Tell me, Kira. Was there ever a time, since you were born, that you have ever told the truth?" asked L, his voice raising in anger.

Light growled, his own voice raising. "Is _now_ good enough for you?"

L kicked his foot at Light's head, but Light was ready this time. He dodged the kick and aimed a punch at L's head. Considering they were in the backseat of a car, Light's punch easily landed with a satisfying thump.

L growled, crouching on the seat and ready to resume his attack.

Both Light and L flew forward as Watari slammed on the brakes.

"Don't make me stop this car again! I won't allow you two to fight like children while I'm driving!" exclaimed Watari, before slowly starting the car forward once more.

Light and L shared a look, before looking away quickly, both glaring.

Light silently fumed, knowing that there was only one way for L to believe that he wasn't lying about psycho fucker trying to kill him.

He'd have to tell Lawli the _truth_.

He felt something jab him in the shoulder, turning to see that it was L's pointy elbow.

Oh, he'd tell L alright, but first . . .

"Oof," grunted L, grabbing his ribs.

Light smirked.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Hahaha, there you go! The naked scene! Man, I'm so glad I got a chance to write that, but just remember, **IT'S NOT ACTUALLY PART OF THE STORY!**

Thank you all for your fabulous reviews! I'm well over one thousand now! XD And thank you for bearing with me. I know my updating schedule is going to be hectic for a bit!

But really, I hope y'all enjoyed this little Interlude. I really had fun writing it, and it seriously almost became part of the actual story, but just remember, this was an AU stuck in the middle, just an interlude.

Next chapter will be THAT OTHER chapter you're all looking forward to. Finally, some well kept secrets are revealed! WOOT!

_**SAY SOMETHING!**_


	24. Reunions

**A/N: **Le Sigh. Hey there you guys. I'm back! Yay. -_-

I feel all sad and depressed that it took me so long to get this chapter up. I feel like a right cad, that I do.

Eh. Oh well. At least it's here, right?

Okay, okay. Here, let me get into a better mood . . . .

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

There.

WAAAAHOOO! HEY Y'ALL!!!!! I'M BACK! I'M BACK! HIP HIP HURRAY! HIP HIP HURRAY!

And guess what? **It's a new chapter that is not an interlude**! Whoop! Lol, I actually got mixed reviews about my little ole interlude. It was something along the line of people either hated it or loved it. I honestly didn't get many in between. But, oh well, I had fun with it, and I enjoyed it, so that's really all that matters, right?

Yeah, this chapter, for some ungodly reason, was tough to write. But I gritted my teeth and got on with it.

Okay you guys! **I have a new story idea, and I want to get some opinions on it**. I'm not going to start it until AoD is finished (and who know when THAT's gonna be, anyway?), but it just hit me the other day, and I'm like, yeah, I like that. I wonder if other people will? So, I set down and wrote a summary.

**_Tell me what you think! Seriously. I need an opinion on this, because I might start working on this along with AoD, depending on how the rest of the summer goes._**

OOOOOO

**One Million Apples**

**_His plan worked - L was dead. But Light didn't plan on the guilt, the depression, or the sleepless nights that follow. Ryuk has a solution, but it comes with a price - one that Light is willing to pay if it means bringing L back._**

OOOOOO

Okay, so, vague summary, telling title, and I think this might be more darker than AoD. Seems like it would be crackish by the title, but it wouldn't be. At least, not intentionally. XD

**So, would you click on this story?**

Okay, okay. I digress. My A/N was obnoxiously long. Sorry!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Reunions_

* * *

L was staring at him.

L had _been_ staring at him for close to fifty seconds now.

Light had never realized how long fifty seconds actually was until he had uttered the devastating secret he had been keeping for so long to the frozen man huddled on the floor not three feet away.

Well, it was more like sixty seconds now. Sixty very long seconds, and try as he might, Light couldn't read L at all. His face was a frozen mask. The other man hadn't even blinked. His thumb was still pressed up against his teeth in mid bite, and Light wondered if the other man was actually breathing.

For the first time in his life, Light honestly didn't even have an inkling as to what the other man's reaction would be. Sure, the scenarios had played out many times in his head, but when it came to reality, Light was lost. He hadn't expected L to keep quiet this long though, and he half expected the other man to attack him once again.

And it was perhaps the longest one minute and twenty nine seconds of his entire life, but finally, L reacted. However, he did something that Light had never even _considered_ he'd do in the million and one scenarios he'd thought up.

The other man calmly rose to his feet, opened the door, and softly closed it behind him.

And Light didn't know what to do.

* * *

_"It's me, Lawli. It's Light."_

_". . . It's Light."_

_". . . It's Light."_

Light.

_LIGHT!_

L braced himself against the bathroom sink, and made an effort to control his erratic breathing. He felt almost . . . detached. Like this wasn't happening. Like everything that had happened to him upon waking up had been a hallucination, a waking dream, or perhaps even an extreme case of wish fulfillment.

He moved to turn on the faucet, trying not to let the stiff pain in his arm convince him that he really _wasn't_ dreaming. He wanted to be dreaming.

He splashed cold water on his face a few times, concentrating solely on the feel of the water against his warm skin.

L backed away from the sink, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was wet and blotched. The bags under his eyes were darker and deeper since the last time he had cared to spare a glance at a mirror, and his hair was wilder and more disheveled than what he was used to.

None of this bothered him.

At least, not as much as what he saw reflected in his eyes.

_Fear. Trepidation. Uncertainty. Confusion._

L hated himself for feeling so helpless.

His back hit the wall, causing him to jump and his pulse to spike momentarily before he realized what he had run into. L hadn't noticed that he was still backing away from the mirror until he felt the soft collision.

He slowly let his back slide down the wall, curling into his customary position. He held his knees against his chest, clutching at the denim material with more white-knuckled force than L would care to admit. He was unsettled. More than unsettled. And all because of -

_Light._

Raito.

_The same person?_

L didn't even realize he was biting his thumb until he tasted the blood on his tongue, but his mind was working too furiously for him to give his injured thumb more than a cursory thought before preceding with its mutilation between his teeth once again.

_Light Layfield._

L had never seen Light Layfield as strictly a friend. Light had been with him since before L could remember, and in his eyes, Light had been family. But then they had been separated. L knew that Light wouldn't take the separation well. He had begged and threatened and pleaded until he was finally allowed to pause his training one evening and send a letter to Light.

The letter he had received in return hadn't been what L had expected. It had been harsh, callous, and nothing like the boy he remembered. L had been devastated after reading that first letter. He had been sure that Light would never want contact with him again. The letter had certainly led L to believe so.

The depression following Light's letter had led to a two month set back in his training, to the frustration of his teachers, but then one day another letter arrived. Sure, Light had apologized, but the damage had already been done. L didn't believe that Light could ever take those words back, and their relationship had never even touched upon what it had once been.

And as L feel deeper and deeper into his role as the greatest detective in the world, Light ceased to matter to him as much as he once had.

_Yagami Raito._

Raito had been L's first ever friend. He hadn't grown up with him since toddlerhood. He wasn't _required_ to be his friend, nor had Raito sought friendship solely for personal gain by befriending the great detective L. In fact, Raito had never actively sought the man's friendship, even going to great lengths to show L exactly how much Raito wasn't his friend.

But their friendship was forged still, and in a peculiar way. Raito was the only person who could ever match his intelligence, and therefore was the only equal to him that L had ever come across. The other man had attracted L in ways that L had never experienced before, and it wasn't just the youth's magnificent mind.

Their friendship was more a rivalry, but L had thrived on it, treasured it, and was certain that Raito was his first ever _real_ friend.

L was a liar. He was a cheater. He was childish. He was selfish, and he would go to any means possible, legal or otherwise, to win.

Raito was exactly the same way.

They complimented each other perfectly. So alike, yet different. And despite the mind games, the plots, the deaths, and the intricate web of lies each wove for the other, L had found a kindred spirit in this man.

But Yagami Raito had been, and possibly still is, the most notorious serial killer in the history of mankind, and L is the detective charged with catching him.

And then something unexpected happened, completely ruining the game that L had stubbornly refused to admit just how close Raito had come to winning.

Raito had figured out L's name. His _real name_. Suddenly, there was a new game, and L didn't even know the rules.

Light Layfield . . . Yagami Raito.

_The same person. _

No, it just couldn't be. They were completely different people. It was impossible . . . but -

That would explain how Raito knew his name.

Raito . . . that was the Japanese pronunciation for Light.

L had noticed this, of course. But he had never really noticed it beyond thinking it odd. And even then, L had assumed that Light's name had been Moon at first. It wasn't until later that he was informed that the kanji was pronounced 'Raito.'

Light . . . Raito . . . Yes, they looked very similar. His memories of Light were clear, but if Light Layfield and Yagami Raito were truly the same person - and L still wasn't sure if that was the case or another trick - then Light had changed in the years past. His was no longer a little boy, and his hair had gotten a shade darker, a bit longer. His skin was paler, too. A far cry from L's consistently browned companion of his youth. He supposed the pollution over Tokyo would cause keeping a tan to be difficult.

L put his head between his knees, and stared down at his boney feet, willing the pieces to come together.

Yagami Raito, for all intents and purposes, was the son of Yagami Soichirou and Yagami Sachiko. But - and L had always wondered about this - Raito and his parents looked . . . _nothing_ alike. Raito and his sister Sayu looked _nothing _alike. The similarities stopped with the family's obvious Asian heritage, and it didn't go beyond that.

But why hadn't L seen this before . . .?

He had done the background checks himself. Thorough, precise . . . but . . . he had obviously missed something. It wasn't right.

And those letters. _All of those letters_! If Raito and Light were truly the same person, then had Raito been sending those letters to him all this time? The more L thought about it, the more suspicious he got. Raito had been handcuffed to him for months. That was more than enough time for L to figure out that Raito's handwriting and that of the letters were markedly different. It hadn't been Raito.

If Light hadn't sent those letters, then who did? And more importantly, why?

No, Raito wasn't Light. He couldn't be. _It just wasn't possible_. It -

_"It's me, Lawli . . ."_

Lawli.

No one had called him that in years. Light had never even addressed him as such in his letters. It was something only the_ real_ Light would know . . .

Light. Raito.

They were . . . the same? Light had been with him this whole time? It was Light?

Light - _Light was Kira._

The realization made L's stomach roll. His best friend, his brother, the only family he'd ever had, his first friend, the only person in this world who L felt that he belonged to . . . was a murderer. Had been planning_ L's_ murder.

Raito was Light and Light was Kira.

L let his head fall back with a thud, and he stared at the ceiling. He no longer felt quite as detached as before. The shock had faded into disbelief, and now that had morphed into a subdued acceptance tinged with anger.

But he just couldn't find the energy to be more that passively annoyed. After all, this development wasn't necessarily bad by any stretch of the imagination. Especially considering what might have happened had Raito not realized who L was. L could be dead by now. That was certainly the direction they had been going in before Raito's shocked announcement of L's real name.

But L didn't want to dwell on how utterly fucked up this situation truly was. He wasn't in the mood to brood. He'd been brooding for weeks. So what was he okay with about all this? What could he find in this whole situation to feel good about?

_His best friend and only family just happened to be the same person._

L nodded to himself. It would take some getting used to, but he could deal with that. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, but it was a far cry from bad.

_Raito has ceased being Kira - supposedly. Hopefully._

L rubbed his lip. That was convenient. If it was true, then it was definitely a plus. Maybe he wouldn't be having any trouble from Kira then.

_The Kira case was closed, and Yagami Raito was assumed dead._

L smile slightly to himself. Very convenient. No one would be missing the other man. L could take Raito with him then.

_Raito obviously wanted something to do with him, if he had sought him out and kidnapped him._

L bit his thumb and winced. He ruefully glared at the chewed bloody mess before turning his thoughts back to Raito. Hopefully Raito was interested in picking up where they left off, in both their friendships as Lawli and Light and L and Raito.

L smiled, feeling very happy all of the sudden. He had just gotten his best friend back, after all. It was strange how things had a way of working themselves out.

Suddenly, he frowned, remembering back to the earlier conversation. Raito had thought he was . . . dead?

Why?

And those letters . . .

Who were they from, and why had L received them? Towards what end would someone be sending him forged letters? And Yagami Raito's files . . . obviously they had been tampered with. There had never been anything mentioned of Raito being adopted.

Something was wrong, and if L was right - and he was 98.9% of the time - then he had just stumbled upon a decade long conspiracy centering around himself and the man L could hear nervously hovering outside the bathroom door.

* * *

L had been in the bathroom for a while.

A _long_ while.

And Light was debating with himself on whether he should knock or just leave well enough alone. He actually leaned more towards leaving the detective to himself. He honestly had no desire to talk to L about anything messy at the moment, and a messy conversation was bound to be on the plate for their next meeting.

Light sighed. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just waited, but he honestly didn't want to lie anymore. Especially when L had looked so defeated when he had asked Light to tell him the truth. Maybe Light could have lied to L's face a long time ago, but that was before L was Lawli, and Light couldn't bring himself to lie to Lawli.

Light sighed almost imperceptibly before turning around and walking away from the bathroom door - again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to even bloody knock. How pathetic was he?

Light moodily dragged his feet down the stairs to the kitchen. Lucky for him, the coffee pot was still on and half full. He searched the cabinets for a moment before successfully locating the coffee cups, and then pored himself some of the bitter brew.

Light gingerly sat at the kitchen table, double checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding anywhere. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the upholstery of a killer for hire's kitchen chair. He didn't find any blood. Light washed away the blood from his nose during the hour that L had spent in the bathroom upstairs, but that didn't mean he couldn't have missed a spot.

Light sighed again, this time more heavily, as he gazed down into the black coffee. He probably shouldn't be looking for answers in the bottom of a coffee cup. He'd heard that looking for answers in the bottom of a _whiskey bottle_ was more prudent anyway. Sometimes you found an answer there.

"Is there any tea?"

Light jumped, sloshing his coffee onto the table.

L stood in the doorway, his shoulders hunched, and his hands shoved into his pockets. He face was carefully blank, just like it usually was, and Light was surprised that the man hadn't bodily tackled him with a purloined kitchen knife.

"I don't know," answered Light dumbly.

L shrugged his shoulders before quickly locating Tank's pantry closet, shoving half of his body inside, obviously hunting for tea.

Light eyes trailed down L's lanky form, but he stopped himself as soon as L straightened up with a triumphant smirk, shutting the pantry door and a tea box in his hand.

Light desperately hoped that the slight warming of his cheeks weren't noticeable.

"It wouldn't be England without tea in every pantry," commented L, before throwing Light a look.

"Unless you have taken me outside of England," continued L, obviously inquiring as to where they were.

"We're still in England," confirmed Light, just now noticing that he hadn't sopped up his spilled coffee. He rose from his chair and fetched a paper towel from the roll by the sink.

When Light was done cleaning up his mess, he found that L had already located a teapot, and had the water on the stove to boil.

With nothing else to do until the water was ready, L sat himself down across from Light.

_Awkward_ might have been an understatement.

Light tried to convince himself that the pile of dirty dishes in the sink really were _that_ interesting, and that he wasn't trying to avoid L's piercing stare. There was a part of Light that growled silently at how cowardly he was acting, and Light roughly shoved the voice away before meeting L's eyes.

His face was as blank as ever. But his eyes . . .

His eyes were something completely different.

And Light couldn't explain what he saw in the other man's eyes. He had never quite seen that look before, but he didn't think it was anything for him to worry about. The man didn't seem angry, at least.

Light was about to speak, if only to break the tense silence, when L beat him to it.

"So, should I call you Raito or Light?" asked L, quirking his head slightly.

Light was taken aback at how casually the other man had asked the question. Obviously, L had taken it better than how Light thought he would. His breath escaped him in a shocked laugh.

"What?" he asked.

"Which do you prefer?" asked L again, leaning forward slightly.

Light shrugged. "I honestly don't care either way. I mean, I'm sure this is probably hard on you, so if you want, you can just continue to call me Raito. That might be a little easier to digest at first."

A small, almost invisible, smile played upon the detectives lips. "How very thoughtful of you Raito-kun."

Light just nodded, the easy air between them suddenly becoming awkward once more, but it had been nice to hear L call him something besides Kira or Kira-kun.

"I really have stopped being Kira, you know," whispered Light, and he regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

But to his surprise, L merely nodded, but whether it was in agreement or not, Light didn't know.

Light tried his luck again. "And I'm sorry. About everything."

L merely stared at him, but Light didn't let the stare affect him. He stared back solidly, letting L know that he wasn't lying this time. He really was sorry. He had never been more sorry about anything in his life.

"If these events had not come to pass, I sincerely doubt that we would have ever crossed paths again, Raito-kun," said L quietly.

Light blinked, surprised. "Well -"

"But for what it is worth, I accept you apology," continued L.

Light nodded, at a loss for words.

"I assume that you have realized that we are in the middle of a decade long conspiracy that goes far beyond the Kira case?" asked L, curiosity coloring his usually monotone voice.

Light almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. "Obviously."

Light thought he saw a small smile ghost across the detective's face, but the teapot chose that time to whistle, so Light couldn't be sure if it was imagined or not.

L sat back down. He must not have been able to find any china - not that Light was surprised considering whose kitchen it was - and so the other man was using a coffee mug similar to Light's.

"I think it would be wise for us to share our stories," remarked L a moment later.

"Our stories?" repeated Light.

"Yes, Raito-kun. It will hopefully provide insight about who has masterminded this nefarious plot, and what their reasons and goals may be for doing so," replied L, sipping at his tea. Light was surprised to notice a bag of sugar cubes resting next to the cup. He hadn't seen L grab the bag from the pantry.

Light furrowed his brow. "Where do you want me to start?"

L sat down his cup. "I have found that the beginning, Raito-kun, is usually the best and most logical place."

* * *

Roger was in his office especially early that morning.

He settled himself behind his desk, taking the morning paper out from underneath his arm. He set it aside and checked his watch.

He'd give it a few more minutes before he made his customary phone call.

The older man breathed a weary sigh. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but despite the relief, he hadn't slept well the previous evening. Really, he hadn't slept much at all. Until he found out that it was truly over and done with, Roger wouldn't catch a moments peace.

The man who took care of Roger's more questionable business had been with him for years. Roger trusted the man to do his job, and the man hadn't failed him yet. But there was something about that boy - the brat had proven particularly hard to kill.

And what with all this Kira business, Roger was even more eager to see the boy gone for good, whether he was innocent or not.

Roger rubbed his aching head. Too little sleep always left him with a headache, yet losing sleep was a small sacrifice. He only had to remind himself that such inconveniences were necessary for the good of the revolution.

He glanced once again at his wrist watch. It was very early, and Roger was a patient man. He had to be, but today he wasn't feeling quite as patient. He wanted to know that the boy was dead _now. _Just so he could finally get some rest.

Roger took out his cell phone - secret and untraceable - and punched in the well remembered numbers.

"Yeah?" grumbled a sleepy voice on the other end.

Good. The man wouldn't be sleeping if last night hadn't been a success.

"Tank, my friend. I trust that all went well last evening?" inquired Roger, polite interest coloring his words. The man on the other line wouldn't be able to tell, however, because of the voice encryptor.

"You could say that. Ran into a little snag, though. Sorry if he was someone you knew, but I figured you'd want me to keep your ass covered."

Roger paused, his mind trying to grasp what the killer for hire was saying.

"I'm afraid I do not understand."

There was a pause. Roger gripped the phone tightly, suddenly having a very bad feeling worm its way into his stomach.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, that guy. The one that was sleeping in the same bed with Layfield. Yeah, had to scratch him too. Sorry, but he saw me kill Layfield. Don't worry though, I got rid of them both. Already burned the bodies and everything, so you're good to go. Though, I hope no one's going to miss that guy. I'd probably plant a suicide note, or send yourself a postcard, or something. You know, just in case."

Roger leaned forward from where he had been lounging in his office chair, sitting rigidly.

"There was a man in bed with Layfield?" he asked, his voice tense.

Dear God. It wasn't one of the children, was it? It would be hard to cover up the disappearance of one of the brats that ran around this place. Or maybe the boy had invited someone from outside the orphanage to warm his bed.

Roger restrained himself from making a noise of disgust.

Surely that was the answer.

"Oh, what? Uh, yeah, he was a pretty weird looking fellow. He had some crazy ass black hair that stuck out every which a way and bags under his eyes like you wouldn't believe. I was surprised to find the dude sleeping. And he was sleeping in his clothes too. White shirt, blue jeans. At least he took off his shoes, huh? Yeah, he's dead. Like I said, sorry if you knew him, but you always pay me extra to leave no witnesses, right?"

With each word said, Roger felt his throat constrict tighter. A strangled sort of groan escaped him before he snapped his cell phone shut.

He stared dumbly at his desk, his mind refusing to acknowledge what he had just heard. There had to be some mistake. It couldn't have possibly been him. It just couldn't have. If he was dead, Roger's goal would be so much harder to achieve.

It just couldn't have been him.

Besides, wherever that strange little man went, that old fool Quillish was sure to follow. The man wasn't here, and neither was L. Yes, it must have been someone else. The chances of L being -

His office door opened quietly, and Roger blinked dumbly at the man standing in the doorway.

Quillish Whammy scowled good naturedly. "Bollocks. I'd thought you'd still be asleep, old boy. Now you've ruined my fun."

Roger felt something in his chest squeeze, constricting and painful. His whole body seized, and his vision grew blurry around the edges as sharp pains shot through his chest. He couldn't breathe.

_L was dead._

With a muffled thud, Roger hit the ground, having slid out of his chair. He barely registered the pain of hitting the ground, and his vision finally blackened to nothing.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Whew. There. Another chapter under the belt. Ugh, I'm getting fat. This is, what, the 25 chapter I posted? Imma need to get a new belt!

OKAY, YOU GUYS? WHAT DID YA THINK? MIGHT WANT TO **say a little something** ABOUT IT, HUH?

**AND please give me your opinion on that summery and title and general idea. I'm kinda excited about it, and I'm wondering if people will feel the same way . . . XD**


	25. It's A Bloody Conspiracy

**A/N: **Wow. Not one line break/scene change in the whole damn chapter. Well then!

And the mystery continues to slowly unravel, my friends.

I would like to take this chance to whole heartedly thank each and every one of you AWESOME people for the FABULOUS reviews you continue to DAZZLE me with! You are all bloody amazing, and the only reason I keep writing is FOR YOU, the BEAUTIFUL reader! Thank YOU for reading my story! I really really appreciate it. And thank you SO BLOODY MUCH if you are gracious enough to leave me a review!

Okay people. Here we go again. And this chapter is pretty dialogue heavy. :D I like dialogue. XD

And damn. I'm excited. The plot is coming along nicely. I'm very proud of each and everyone of you that picked up on Roger's mentioning of that little thing he mentioned. XD Good job, people!

AND! THANK YOU for your opinions on OMA. I can't wait to start that one!

**OKAY PEOPLE! IS ANYONE HERE CREATIVE? okay, so, y'all know this story about as well as I do, and the summery has been buggin the hell out of me. I just don't think it really conveys what the story is about as well as I like. I hate admitting that I suck at summeries, SO DON'T TELL ANYBODY!, because then people are all like, "Oh, she can't write a summery? What makes her think she can write a story? what an idiot! i'm not gonna read her stuff! bleh!" so, yeah, don't tell anybody, AND IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS/SUMMERIES/ETC, PLEASE just leave me a review or PM or something. Please. I'm desperate for a better summery, and everything I come up with stinks!**

Oh, and is anyone as anxious for the update of Hacker of the Past as I am? That bit of the last chapter was HILARIOUS. Man, I can't wait for that story to be updated! :D

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_It's A Bloody Conspiracy_

* * *

"The beginning . . ." murmured Light. When was the beginning? Not when he found the notebook. No, L meant before that. All those years ago, in the orphanage . . .

"Yes Raito-kun," agreed L, but not without a trace of exasperation.

Light inwardly sighed. This wasn't going to be an easy story to tell. He hadn't ever talked about those months after his friend's death. He tried his best not to remember them either. He was of the mind that the past was meant to stay in the past, but that had just worked out _so well_, hadn't it?

He took a breath.

"It all started when my best friend went on a field trip to the British Museum," began Light, pausing as he thought back to that day so long ago. The memories were sketchy. Light had purposefully put them from his mind for so long, that it took him a moment for him to remember the exact order of events. However, the more he concentrated, the faster he began to recall.

L said nothing. He only continued to stare unblinkingly at Light, waiting for him to continue. Light met the other man's piercing gaze, and his mind momentarily froze as he found himself lost in their dark depths.

With great effort, Light broke the gaze, instead, looking down into his empty coffee cup.

"I remember when you left that morning. You were wearing my white shirt. I was smug about that. I told myself I'd rub it in your face when you got back, but . . . I just wish I had said something, had known, or even - I would have stopped you. If I had known. I would have never let you walk out that door," said Light, realizing that he was rambling just a bit. He needed to differentiate between pertinent thoughts and ones that had no business leaving his head.

L quirked his head. "You would not have let me go?"

Light looked up from his cup, his eyebrows raised. "Do you really need me to answer that?"

L said nothing. His silence encouraged Light to continue.

"There was a storm that night, and Mrs. Wallace said that the bus couldn't drive in the bad weather. It stopped at a motel. When the bus got back the next afternoon, you weren't on it. I was frantic, and none of the other kids would tell me where you were. I finally went to Mrs. Wallace's office, and I saw two policemen leaving. She was crying . . ."

L frowned, but kept quiet.

Light drew in a steadying breath.

"A week later, the police found L Lawliet's body floating in the Thames river. I -"

Light stopped as L fell sideways off his chair, having obviously lost his balance in what Light could only assume was shock. Light leaned over to look at the stunned man.

"You okay?" he asked hesitantly.

L sat up, supporting himself with his elbows, and stared at Light in shock. He seemed to be having trouble finding his next words.

"_What_?!" croaked L, finally.

Light smirked slightly. He enjoyed seeing the other man surprised. It was a rarity, and despite the seriousness of the conversation, Light took pleasure in L's expression.

"Yes, well, _obviously_ that couldn't have been you," explained Light condescendingly.

"So you thought I was dead?" asked L faintly.

Light immediately sobered, all humor leaving him, as L gave him such a sad look.

"What else was I supposed to think? Mrs. Wallace went in for the identification. We had your funeral a week later. It was closed casket. Apparently the body was . . . too far gone for anything else," said Light.

L spluttered. "But that's not what happened at all!"

Light just shook his head, mild amusement creeping back. "I know that. You're sitting right in front of me. Not rotting six feet under in some run down London cemetery. Though for the past few years, that's exactly where I thought you were."

L climbed back into his seat, assuming his usual precarious position. He looked distinctly unsettled.

Neither one of them said anything for a few moments, each lost to their own thoughts. L was obviously trying to come to grips with the fact that he had been declared dead over a decade ago and had a tombstone somewhere with his name on it, and Light was trying to work himself up for explaining the rest of it all.

"How did you . . . take it?" asked L, looking at Light with an unreadable expression.

Light shrugged self-consciously, his mind flashing to his father. He had asked Soichirou the same question about L after Light's supposed death. "Not good. The body showed signs of severe trauma. Whoever that boy was, someone murdered him, but not before making his life hell first. The police -"

Light stopped, blowing out an angry breath. He could_ still_ get worked up about how _well _the police had handled L's case.

"They didn't even _try_ to find the murderers. They closed your case within a week after your funeral. Nobody _cared_ about the murdered orphan boy. There wasn't anyone to miss him. It all just made me so _angry_. I just had my only family ripped away from me, and those bastards couldn't even bother to investigate. I was livid. I'm _still_ livid. The injustice of it all was unbearable."

Suddenly, Light laughed coldly, self-deprecatingly. "That's probably why it was so easy for the Death Note to influence me in the way that it did. I had some massive unresolved issues and pent up anger that had been building and building for years before I picked up that damned notebook. It wasn't that hard to get me to be a bad person."

Light rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. This conversation was already giving him a headache. L said nothing, which Light was thankful for. He couldn't continue if L started shooting off his opinions now.

"I was determined to solve the case on my own. If the police couldn't bring me justice, then I was going to find my own justice. Then maybe you would have left me alone. You haunted me every night for months, you know. I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat. Even my grades dropped, but I did get good at hacking. I taught myself after you died, and the police's system became my personal playground. But . . . there was just - _no evidence_ - anywhere! I know now that I should have spent more time looking at the photos of the body. I saw one, once, and I was sick. The nightmares got worse after that night, and I couldn't bare to look at them again. But if only I had . . . maybe I would have been able to tell that it wasn't you . . ."Light trailed off.

If only he had looked at those damn pictures. He would have known that the boy wasn't Lawli. Light stopped himself before he could continue down that path any further. The path of what ifs and maybes was a dangerous path to walk along, and Light would not get lost in possibilities. Not when Lawli was sitting in front of him - _alive_.

"Seven months after I began my own fruitless investigation, a Japanese couple visited the orphanage. I didn't care much. I had more important things to worry about at the time, but when I heard someone mention that the man was some high ranking detective from Tokyo, I jumped at the chance to meet him. I figured he could offer me advice at the very least."

Light stood up, taking his empty coffee cup with him. He turned off the coffee maker before pouring the last bit of coffee into his cup. Coffee was perhaps the only thing keeping him going about now.

"They liked me. Mrs. Wallace let them take me out to dinner that night. But when we got back to the orphanage, it was on fire. The whole damn place had gone up in flames. I had nightmares about that for weeks afterwards. The Yagami's filed the necessary paperwork the next day, and by the weekend, I was on a plane to Tokyo."

"Were there any survivors?" asked L quietly. He was staring at Light, his eyes slightly narrowed in what he knew to be concentration.

Light shook his head. "Nobody that I knew. Not that I was a social butterfly or anything. I don't remember all that well, but I think it was blamed on faulty wiring. Many people died. Even bloody Walter died in that fire."

L blinked, his eyes widening slightly in understanding. "Walter? The one that used to beat us up?"

Light laughed at L's very astute description. "Yeah, that guy. He was the one who told you all those ghost stories, remember? And he got you to eat mud one time because he told you it was chocolate cake mix."

L chuckled. "I remember that. Didn't he want to be an astronaut? I remember you telling our teacher that you wanted to be a gynecologist because you refused to work in the same field as him."

"I don't think the teacher had ever been so offended in her entire life. I was being dead honest, too."

"No you weren't. You wanted to be an astrophysicist."

Light waved his hand. "Details, details. She really shouldn't have taken it the way she did."

He felt the mood change imperceptibly as L looked away. "You changed your mind. You didn't want to be an astrophysicist anymore."

"I suppose not," agreed Light slowly, knowing how loaded that statement really was.

"So what happened next?" asked L, biting his thumb. He wouldn't meet Light's gaze, and Light wasn't sure why that was so frustrating to him.

"Nothing special. I grew up. Tried tennis in middle school. Stayed at the top of my class year after year. Tried sake when I was in high school. Dated a girl. Helped Sayu in math. Found a supernatural notebook that kills people. Just, well, the usual adolescent things, I suppose."

L snorted, and Light was pleasantly surprised to see that L could still laugh at his bad jokes.

"How ever did you manage to come across something like that?" asked L.

"What? The sake or the killer notebook? Because sake is a lot easier to find that killer notebooks," smiled Light sardonically.

"The notebook," replied L, shifting forward attentively.

"Long story short, I was staring out a window. I saw something fall from the sky, and I checked it out after class. I thought it was a joke at first, but then I tried it. Then I tried it again and again and again. I don't remember how it happened, but it got to the point where I wasn't _me_ anymore. I was Kira, and it was like Light had never existed. When Kira gave up ownership, it was like I had come back from the dead. I was me again, but I couldn't remember being Kira. That changed when I touched Higuchi's notebook. Kira took over . . ." Light trailed off, thinking about those few days after he had regained his memories.

"Something changed when you realized who I was," stated L.

"Yes. It did," agreed Light, but gave no further explanation.

"You had a rather violent reaction to my being alive," continued L, his eyes wide and unblinking.

Light nodded, but chose to change the direction of the conversation. He was uncomfortable with that particular memory. It was embarrassing, but most of all, it was a painful.

"My plan was for you to have me executed. That's why I confessed. I was scared that Kira would take over. I'm _still_ scared that Kira will take over. Sometimes, I can feel him. I've pushed him back, but he's still in my head somewhere, just waiting for me to slip up. Kira wants you dead, and I'm afraid that if he were to ever gain control of me again, he'd kill you. That's why I wanted to be executed. I figured I had to kill myself to kill him," said Light, swallowing hard.

"So you did turn yourself in to protect me. I suspected as much, but I was hesitant to believe so," murmured L.

Light looked away, once again finding interest in the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Light?"

Light jerked, unused to the man addressing him as anything but Raito-kun.

"Yeah, L?"

"I'm sorry," whispered L sadly.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" asked Light.

"I knew that when I left the orphanage that day, I wasn't coming back," said L hesitantly.

Light froze, the words barely making sense.

"You . . . knew?" breathed Light in disbelief.

L slowly nodded his head, looking at Light with barely concealed trepidation. Or maybe it _was_ concealed well. Maybe Light could just read the other man better than most.

Light swallowed hard, but endeavored to keep himself calm. He wanted to scream. Or punch something. L left the orphanage knowing he wouldn't return? He hadn't said anything, not even goodbye? Light focused on calming himself. He didn't want things to descend into violence again. He took a steadying breath.

"Help me understand this. You knew that you weren't coming back when you left the orphanage. How?"

L shifted, and he wasn't looking at Light again. Light stopped himself from growling. Damn Lawli. Why did he always have to be so difficult.

Finally, L spoke. "Do you remember Mr. Scott?"

The question threw Light. That was a question he hadn't been expecting to hear. It took him a brief moment, but Light remembered his annoying math teacher - the one that died in the fire.

"Yes," answered Light slowly, unsure as to where L was going with that question.

"Mr. Scott was a scout for a highly selective children's home that specializes in taking in children with an intelligence level far beyond average. Do you remember the tests I took that year? After I received my scores, Mr. Scott approached me. At first, I refused his offer to place me in the home. I had no desire to go if it meant leaving you behind. However, Mr. Scott made a deal with me. If I tried out the home for a month, then he would endeavor to have you to take your tests early to see if you could join me. If you did not meet the standards, then I would have the option to return to the orphanage," explained L.

A sudden realization hit Light.

"So that's why Mr. Scott was dead set about getting me to take those tests early," he mumbled to himself.

L continued, not commenting of Light's interruption.

"I was told that all the necessary paperwork had been filed. Mrs. Wallace supposedly knew, along with the rest of the staff, and Watari fetched me from the museum before the tours started. I was told that the place I was going was top secret. I couldn't even tell you, but Mr. Scott assured me that he would explain it all to you should you excel in your tests, and if not, I was planning on going back to the orphanage anyway. You never took them, did you?" asked L, finally looking back at Light.

"No, I never did," confirmed Light, still trying to assimilate all that he had learned.

"Towards the end of my first month, I was informed that you had been adopted and was living a perfectly happy life in America, and so I decided to stay there," said L.

"_What_?!" exclaimed Light, the announcement completely taking him off guard.

"Yes, and I have been exchanging letters with a Light Layfield for years now," finished L, biting his thumb harshly.

Light's mind reeled, and he felt his jaw involuntarily drop. "You've been exchanging letters with someone _pretending_ to be _me_? This really _is_ a bloody conspiracy."

L nodded. "The evidence supporting that theory is particularly damning, Light-kun."

Light smiled briefly at L's new name for him. It was appropriate. A perfect mixture of who L had once known and who L had known in Japan. Light found that he liked it, but he frowned at the implications of what L had just said. There was somebody out there, somebody who knew them, that had been using both Light and L like fucking puppets since . . .

Light's elbow slipped out from where it had been supporting his chin.

L quirked his head. "Light-kun?"

But Light didn't hear him, because suddenly the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

"This home that you were taken to. It wouldn't happen to be called Whammy's, would it?" questioned Light, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

L blinked. "Yes, but I assumed that you already had that information. That is where you took me from, after all."

Light didn't respond, his head a whirl. Roger Ruvie. There was no more room for doubt. He _had_ to be psycho fucker. He had to be the one at the center of this whole fucking mess. There was no other _known_ common link shared between L and Light besides that one man, who had already proven himself to be a murdering snake.

But why him? Why L? Why had they fallen into this mess? What was Roger's goal? What was he trying to accomplish by keeping L under his thumb? By trying to kill Light? Obviously he didn't want L and Light to be together. The man had gone to great lengths to keep them apart. But why?

What was he missing?

"Light-kun?" queried L, dropping his thumb from his mouth. He looked worried.

Light realized he had been staring at the table for more than a minute, lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, thumping footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Light felt his mouth twitch in annoyance. The man had impeccable timing.

L went rigid when the imposing figure of Tank swept into the kitchen, and really, Light couldn't blame him. Tank posed an intimidating man.

Tank grinned upon seeing them sitting at his kitchen table.

"Asian guy! Do you want to run down to the store and pick me up some sprinkles? I got mone - oh, wait. You don't know where it is, do you? Damn. Means I'll have to go," grumbled Tank, reaching into the cabinet for something Light couldn't see.

"Ah, erm, Ryuuzaki?"

L looked at him, wide eyed and plainly nervous, but only Light could tell. To any one else, L would look completely indifferent. Light tried smiling, hoping it would comfort the other man. He failed. It came out more as a grimace than anything. He stopped trying.

"Yes?" returned L, drawing out the 'e' a bit.

"Erm, this is Tank. He's a, ah, friend of mine. Tank, this is my good friend Ryuuzaki," said Light, directing the last part to the huge man on the other side of the kitchen.

"A pleasure," said L softly, his eyes wary.

Tank threw his head back and laughed. "Any "good" friend of Asian guy's is a friend of mine! But don't worry, dude. I wouldn't make a very good backdoor buddy, so I'll just leave that to Asian guy."

Light's eyes widened. Did Tank just -

"'Backdoor buddy?'" repeated L, looking over at Light for an explanation, clearly confused.

Light cleared his throat, steadfastly ignoring L's curious gaze and hoping that his creeping blush would go unnoticed.

"Wait, what did you say your name was again?" asked Tank, turning around fully to look at both Light and L.

"Ryuuzaki," said L firmly.

"Ruhhh - what? Aw, man. Another Asian guy. Damn. What am I supposed to call you then?" asked Tank, his eyes involuntarily moving to the ceiling in thought.

"Tank -" started Light.

Tank snapped his fingers.

"I got it! Spike! Because you're hair's so spikey!" exclaimed Tank in obvious delight.

L and Light shared a look, and Light just shrugged minutely.

"You said you needed sprinkles?" asked Light, hoping to change the subject.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. See, I was talking to that geriatric fuck on the phone earlier this morning, and I suddenly had the strangest urge to try putting sprinkles in pancake batter. I was wondering if the sprinkles would melt and make little colored pancake dots when you cooked them. You know, like that cake that Pillsbury makes? Fun Fetti?" explained Tank.

Light almost laughed when L noticeably perked up at the mention of adding sprinkles to pancakes, but something else that Tank said caught his attention.

"You talked to him?" asked Light. He hoped that Tank had smoothed it over. He really didn't want psycho fucker to be sending anyone after them.

"Who? Oh, you mean Roger. Yeah, he thinks I killed you and Spike over there. Doubt he knew I was lying, but if he has his suspicions, I'm sure he'd sic that L detective on our trail. Damn. How an unpleasant old fuck like that can get such high placed friends is beyond -"

"_What_?!" exclaimed L, almost tumbling to the floor once again in shock, but catching himself at the last moment.

Light wanted to slap himself. How could he have forgotten that L didn't know about Roger! If L had spent a few years of his life at Whammy's, then of course he'd figure out who Tank was talking about!

"Oh, you haven't told your buddy yet, Asian guy? See, Spike, there's this evil old man named Roger who runs an orphanage for genius kids, and he knows that famous detective, L, right? But see, this Roger dude isn't such a nice guy. I can attest to that seeing as he hires me out to kill people, like Asian guy over ther -"

"TANK!" shouted Light, his horror having grown with each word that coming from the large man's mouth.

"What?" asked Tank, confused.

"Tank, you need to get sprinkles, right? Do you mind if I have some time alone with Ryuuzaki to explain everything? He's still a little shaky on the details," asked Light, hoping he didn't sound as desperate for Tank to leave as he felt.

Tank's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh. Ohhh, okay. I got you. Alone time, yeah? Okay, yeah, the store's just down the - Hey, I'll got to the one across town. Yeah, give you two some time . . . alone," said Tank, grinning like a Cheshire cat and wiggling his eyebrows crassly.

If Light hadn't been so worried about L, he would have punched the mountain of a man for giving him and L such a perverted leer.

With a nod of his head to L and a wink at Light, Tank sauntered out the front door, whistling nonchalantly. Light let out a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, only to tense when L stood up abruptly.

"Hey -" started Light, half way standing up incase L was going to go lock himself in the bathroom again.

"I think for this next conversation, Light-kun, I will need some more tea," said L, refusing to even so much as look at Light.

Light nodded, not saying anything, as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. He didn't think this next conversation would be any easier than the last.

* * *

**EDITED: 7-4-09**

**A/N: **Well, there you go folks.

Another one bites the dust.

unh. unh. unh.

Another one bites the dust. YEAH! WOOT! Now that song is stuck in my head. Fuck. DX

So, you might was to say something about this chapter. You know, because you're nice and all. Hopefully. Okay, maybe not, but because I asked nicely?

OH, and, question. Why do people think I'll get offended if they tell me to "UPDATE NOW!11!1!" or something? Some authors might care, but I don't. Seriously. And EVERYONE can act a fangirlish as they damn well please too. AND you can ramble. I LIKE ramblers. And fangirls. And annoying people. And NON fangirls, ramblers, and annoying people. I'm cool you guys. You can't offend me. So, don't apologize, peoples! :D

OH! AND THANKS FOR THE NEW BELT YOU GUYS! XD


	26. Just Like Old Times

**A/N: **Sooo. I know there was some confusion about this chapter. Some of you clicked on chapter 27 awhile ago, and it wasn't there. Don't worry. That was just an author's note. Then someone pointed out that some stories are deleted when an AN is put up instead of a chapter. I was all like, oh hell no, and I took it down.

But yeah, **my computer died**. Along with the first draft of this chapter. Lucky for you readers, I'm house sitting at my Grandmother's, and I'm working off a lovely desktop.

The GOOD news is - HERE'S THE CHAPTER! The bad news is - my new computer shipped on the 3rd, but won't be here for 3 to 5 more business days. But, seeing as how long you've waited already, I suppose that's not too bad. I even ordered Dell's FastTrack laptop (which only comes in black and not purple like I wanted), because otherwise, my laptop wouldn't have been here for another two weeks! D:

lol, I digress! Here's what you've been waiting for! :D

**Oh, and I've gone back and edited the WHOLE DAMN STORY**. The only heavy duty tweaking I did was on the **first three chapters**. It's amazing. I can literally see my writing change over the course of this story, and damn, the first three chapters were embarrasing! Gah! But no worries. All fixed!

**THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO JEN -- RANDOM READER! Happy Birthday! Sorry I'm an hour and four minutes off! D: But happy birthday all the same!**

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Just Like Old Times_

* * *

"Are you okay?"

L scoffed, grinding a sugar cube harshly between his fingers. And Light called _him_ stupid. He watched absently as the grains fell into his cooling tea. Light shifted uneasily, and L sensed that Light wanted to continue, but held back.

He scowled into his cup, unwilling to meet the concerned gaze of his friend just yet. The betrayal he felt was immense. How far did this all go? Did Watari have a part in this too? The possibility of that hurt far more than L was willing to admit.

"L?" prompted Light. L was surprised to hear Light call him such. He usually referred to him as Ryuuzaki, but L supposed that with everything that had come to light, Ryuuzaki was probably the last thing Light would call him in private.

"I have just learned that a man who greatly influenced my developmental years had darker, more sinister intentions towards me that still remain unknown. Not only that, but he's tried to kill you twice, and we are currently in the home of the man he hired to do you in the second time. Not to mention the first time, when your adopted father was charged with your murder and is somehow inadvertently or not involved in this matter. So, no, Light-kun, I am not okay," replied L, pulverizing yet another sugar cube. It was somewhat therapeutic.

Instead of showing sympathy, Light rolled his eyes. "You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

L raised an eyebrow, finally looking up from his tea. He couldn't say that he was expecting sympathy per se. Not from Light, anyhow. "Speak from experience?"

Light seemed to swell. "As a matter of fact, I do. And at least no one has tried to kill you yet. I'm on my fourth murder attempt, working towards my fifth," he said huffily.

"Ah, but Roger and Watari now believe that I am dead thanks to your assassin friend. That has to count for something. However, I suppose you're right," acquiesced L, rolling another sugar cube between his fingers. This time he dropped it whole into his tea. It made a satisfying plop.

"Me? Right, you say? Well, I suppose that's Light 7,143 to Lawli 7,140 now," responded Light with great relish.

L paused, his fingers hovering over the sugar cube bag. That struck a chord in him. But what . . . Oh. His eyes widened slightly in realization. "I remember that game . . ."

"You better remember that game. You're the one that started it," snorted Light.

L furrowed his brow. "Wait a second - If I remember correctly, the last time the score was called, we were tied. Light-kun can't continue the game if I'm unaware that I am playing! That's cheating."

"It's not my fault. You should have recognized me. Maybe you'd be in the lead then. I mean, you handcuffed yourself to me, for Christ sakes," pointed out Light, a small smile playing about his lips.

L returned the smile, recognizing the conversation for what it was. Light was trying to distract him away from the mess his life had degraded itself to within the past few hours. L appreciated Light's efforts.

L pointed at Light. "Pot." He pointed at himself. "Kettle."

Light laughed. "Yeah, but _I _eventually figured it out. You had to be told."

L pursed his lips, afraid that whatever he tried to say in defense of himself would be a weak excuse against Light's accusation, and more than likely it would be. L? The greatest detective in the world? Not bloody likely. Especially since L hadn't figured out that Light Layfield and Yagami Raito were the same person. He was obviously losing his touch.

L plopped another sugar cube into his tea, ignoring Light's smug look. "So where do we go from here?"

Light faltered, his expression sobering. "I'm not sure."

"Well, let's say in a perfect world, Roger wasn't trying to kill you. What exactly did you wish to learn from him?" asked L, adding yet another sugar cube. He should probably stir it. The motion would help the sugar melt.

"Seems like a moot point now. I was trying to find out who wanted to kill me. I thought that if I asked around, someone might know _something_. I didn't expect that one of the people on my list would be the man I was looking for," said Light.

"I still can't believe you're _Roger's_ grandson," muttered L under his breath.

Light bristled. "Not biologically."

"But still," argued L, stirring his tea in lazy circles.

In the interest of avoiding an argument, L continued before Light could rally up his well-stocked reserve of righteous anger. "It all goes back to Roger. Everything that has happened thus far somehow connects to him. Your parents, my invitation to Whammy's House, your adoption by the Yagami's, my training to become a detective, your four attempted murders -"

"Two," interrupted Light, swirling his own coffee absently.

"What?" asked L, confused. "I thought you said you were working on your fifth?"

"I am. It's just that Roger only tried to kill me twice so far. Once with my father and once with Tank."

"What about the other two?" asked L. He scrutinized Light over the lukewarm teacup he held, his mind awhirl. What had Light been up to since the last time L had seen the other man? Were there others L would have to worry about? Others that wanted to kill Light?

"Ah, I didn't mention that Roger wasn't the first person I visited once I arrived in Europe, did I?" asked Light, seeming to suddenly realize that himself.

"No, you didn't," said L, setting his cup down. L would have definitely remembered that conversation.

"Probably forgot to mention that Tank tried to kill me before last night then, too, huh?" chuckled Light. He obviously found humor in his absentmindedness. L found it aggravating, especially when it seemed that matters of life and death were flippant subjects for the brunet.

"I was under the impression that Tank didn't kill us last night because you saved his life yesterday from an out-of-control ice cream truck," said L, somewhat accusingly.

Light held his hands up. "Hey now, don't give me that look. That _is_ what happened. It's just, in the spirit of cutting a long story short, I didn't mention that Tank burst into my hotel room yesterday morning and almost killed me because he thought I was some guy who had been sleeping with his girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend. I haven't asked, but anyway, it was an honest mistake. He took me out for coffee to apologize, and the ice cream truck almost hit him as we were leaving the diner."

L just stared at Light, at a loss for words. Light sighed knowingly. It was obvious that Light was better at reading L than he first thought. "Yeah, I know. I don't get it either. I'd just accept it and move on."

"Hmm, but what about the other -" L broke off, his eyes widening.

"Light Layfield," he said, staring at Light. _How the hell could he have forgotten?_

Light looked confused. "Erm. _Yes_, L Lawliet?"

L's mind raced. "Please, Light-kun. Tell me you didn't murder three men a few days ago."

Light's face blanked. "Alright. I didn't murder three men a few days ago."

L slammed his hand down onto the table. "That's not what I want to hear!"

"That is _exactly_ what you wanted to hear! You just asked to hear it!" yelled Light.

"I want the truth!" countered L.

"That is the truth!" shot back Light.

L stopped short. "Is that the other attempt on you life, then? Did you kill in self-defense?"

Light rolled his eyes. "Yes, that was just _one of the many times_ someone has shoved a gun in my face and threatened to kill me, and before you say it, _no_, I wasn't the one to kill them. It was my uncle and his friend."

"Uncle? You have an uncle?" asked L, disbelievingly.

L noted that Light looked somewhat offended. "Why? Is that a problem? I can't have an uncle? Should I only be allowed to have crazy pseudo grandfathers who hanker for my death to the point where they personally arrange the date? Is that it?"

L waved his spoon in Light's direction. "Now you're just being melodramatic."

"I'll show _you_ melodramatic," growled Light, picking up his coffee cup in obvious preparation to chuck it at L's head.

L threw his hands up to cover his face, just in case, but yelled at Light all the same. "_ASSASSIN'S_ HOUSE! LIGHT-KUN! WE'RE IN AN _ASSASSIN'S_ HOUSE!"

Light paused mid pose, his eyes widening. "Oh, well, I suppose you have a point."

"Obviously," huffed L. "I'd rather not agitate someone who kills people for a living by smashing their tableware."

"Well maybe the tableware wouldn't be in danger if you'd just lay off," said Light, setting the coffee cup down gently.

"So you have an uncle," stated L, ignoring what Light was saying. L found that it was better to ignore the other man when Light got in his prissy moods.

"Yes, I have an uncle," snapped Light.

L stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He wouldn't sink down to Light's level - yet. "And your uncle has a friend."

"Most people do."

"And your uncle and his friend killed those three men because they held you at gun point and threatened you life," finished L.

"That about sums it up," agreed Light airily, and L was particularly annoyed with Light's vague confirmations. Since Light couldn't throw something at him, he had obviously settled on being difficult.

"Fine, throw a hissy fit, Light-kun," said L, exasperated. He looked down at his tea cup in passive interest. It was filled to the brim with sugar cubes now.

"I'm _not_ throwing a hissy fit, L!"

"Alright. Fine. So why did those three men try to kill you?" asked L, once again trying to avoid an argument. It wasn't working out too well.

Light shrugged. "My uncle owed them money. So they threatened to kill me if he didn't come up with it. They told him they would continue to mutilate my body until he came back with the money. That's how I got this -" Light pointed to the angry, red slash spanning from his chin to this cheekbone. "And that's when his friend burst in and him and my uncle killed the three men."

L quirked his head. "Fascinating. Your family is absolutely fascinating, Light-kun."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!?" yelled Light.

L shook his head. "Nothing. It just amazes me that your whole family, blood related or otherwise, consists of murderers. I guess becoming Kira was more a matter of genetics than anything else, no?"

L knew he had crossed the line when he felt the first punch, and maybe he shouldn't have said that, but he was feeling particularly vindictive this morning, and he couldn't let the opportunity to take a dig at Light pass him by.

L was surprised that Light had stopped at the first punch.

"You really are a bastard, you know that?" spat Light.

L nodded sagely, rubbing his thrice bruised cheek. "Yes, I know."

"But I suppose I might have deserved it. Just a bit. I was the one who made the choice to become Kira in the first place," admitted Light grudgingly.

"Hmm. This is true," agreed L whole heartedly.

Light paused. "Well, you didn't have to agree so _adamantly_, but nevertheless, can we put all that aside for now? I'd rather concentrate on figuring out our next step."

"That's fine by -"

"_LUCY! I'M HOME_!" sang a voice, who L immediately identified as the assassin. He tensed. People in general had always made him uncomfortable and nervous. However, giant assassins, who for all appearences, seemed to suffer from a severe form of ADHD made him _doubly_ so.

The man ambled into the room, laden down with grocery bags. "Hey you two! I got a bunch of groceries, see? 'Cause it looks like we'll be having a buddy of mine joining us. Poor fellow's having - _ahh_ - apartment troubles. But the more the merrier, right?"

"A buddy?" asked Light, his voice unsure. L cut his eyes between the assassin and Light. Why didn't he have a good feeling about this?

"Oh, don't worry, Asian guy! He's completely trustworthy. Known him for years! Take my word for it!" grinned Tank, removing container after container of multi-colored sprinkles from a brown grocery bag.

"So, where is this friend of yours?" asked Light, getting up to help Tank unpack the groceries.

"Eh. He's bringing the rest of the groceries up from the car. He should be here in a few," shrugged Tank.

L and Light shared an uneasy glance. The first sign of trouble, and L didn't care what the assassin might do, L was grabbing Light and making a run for it.

"Where ya want this shit, Tank?" yelled a deep voice with a heavy cockney accent.

L blinked as the man slunk into the room, his eyes immediately zoning in on the tattoos of naked women decorating the man's bare arms.

The man, for his part, yelped, and dropped his load of groceries.

"Aww, dude! The eggs, dude! _The eggs_!" groaned Tank.

But the odd looking man didn't pay any attention to the assassin. He was staring wide eyed and slack jawed at Light, who L noticed was staring back with equal amounts of shock.

"Gr-Greg?" breathed Light.

A grin split the man's - _Greg's_ - face. "_LIGHT_! Ha! Yer alright after all! Thank God!"

L just about threw himself at the man, thinking that perhaps the stranger was attacking Light, but it became apparent that the stranger's intentions weren't harmful as Greg grabbed Light into a hug, both of them smiling and clapping each other's back like old chums.

L wasn't _quite_ sure as to why, but he felt a twist of irrational anger at the sight, and he sort of wished he_ had_ thrown himself at the other man before this Greg person could have put a _finger_ on Light.

"When you said you'd find me, I didn't _really_ think that you would be able to," gasped Light, who had been drawn into _yet another_ particularly _tight_ hug from the stranger. L stopped himself from growling, but he couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing.

"I didn't think I'd be finding ya for a while yet either, Lightie! I'm just glad yer alright!" smiled Greg.

_Lightie?_ L's fist clenched.

"Oh ho! Man, does this just _keep_ getting interesting! You know this Asian guy, Greg?" asked Tank, shooting L a knowing look. L frowned, not understanding why Tank would regard him so.

"Know him? 'Course I know him! 'E's me nephew!" exclaimed Greg, patting Light soundly on the back.

L felt his eyes widen. Nephew? This man was Light's_ uncle_? L felt himself relax, wondering at how the anger that twisted his belly not a moment before was melting away. It was something he would have to meditate on later.

"Your nephew!? _Whew_! I thought for a second that you were one of Asian guy's past lovers or something. Damn, that would have been really awkward," said Tank, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment and shooting L _another_ one of those looks.

"Oh, well, ya know what they say, don't ya? Vice is nice, but incest is best! Ain't that right, Lightie?" laughed Tank, elbowing Light in the ribs.

"It's not funny anymore, Greg," mumbled Light, and L was curious to see that Light was blushing. Surely that didn't mean - no. No, incest was - Light would _never_ engage in something -

Greg made a show of slapping Light's rear end, to the guffaws of Tank. L felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

"Hey, cut it out, Greg! It was a one time deal, anyhow. I don't plan on_ ever_ waking up with you hovering over me naked again," shouted Light, punching Greg in the shoulder. The older man brushed it off.

L felt his body freeze, and the burning, twisting anger was slithering back into his gut with a vengeance. _Naked?_

"Oh, man. I know how he gets, Asian guy. Bet you couldn't keep him in his clothes, huh?" chuckled Tank, who was now moving about the kitchen with ease born of practice. It appeared that he was gathering the ingredients for pancakes.

L's eye twitched. _Couldn't keep him in his clothes?! _

Light nodded. "Yeah. I've spent more time with him naked than with him being clothed, that's for sure."

L ground his teeth. _Spent more time with him naked?!_

_"_How do you two know each other?" asked Light, looking between Greg and Tank.

Greg and Tank smiled at one another. "Well, Asian guy. My cousin dated Greg back when we were all in high school. I actually spent more time with Greg than she did, though. They split up, and Greg here became_ my bitch_."

"What 'e means to say is, I became his _best friend_," corrected Greg with a roll of his eyes.

"_No_, I meant you're _my bitc_ -"

"And who do we 'ave here? You've been awfully quiet there, mister. Are ya a friend of Tank's?" asked Greg, finally turning his attentions to L.

"No. I am a friend of Light's," said L, his face blank and his voice cold.

"Aww, don't be like that, Spike! You're my friend, too!" called Tank from inside the pantry.

"Actually, Greg. This is Ryuuzaki. He's a friend of mine from Japan," explained Light.

"Japan, yeah? That's a long ways away. Well, what's 'e doing 'ere then? Is 'e on holiday?" asked Greg.

Light and L shared a glance. "Well, I just sort of ran into him -"

"They were sleeping together when I found them," interrupted Tank.

"What? Me little nephew and this bloke?" asked Greg, incredulous, pointing at L's head. L glared.

"_Technically, I was drugged_," grumbled L under his breath, but it didn't stop Greg from hearing him.

"No! Don't tell me ya _drugged him_, Lightie? There's better ways to get some booty than resorting to those kinda measures and what not!" exclaimed Greg, giving Light a reprimanding look.

Light shook his head. "It wasn't like _that_! See, his grandfather drugged him becau -"

L quirked an eyebrow. _Grandfather?_

"Woah! Hold up! Apparently I'm not the _only one_ that thinks vice is nice, but incest is best!" said Greg appreciatively.

L almost, _almost_ kicked the agitating man.

"_NO_! Ryuuzaki is an _insomniac_. His grandfather drugged him so Ryuuzaki could_ get some rest_. I didn't know he was in bed when I got in it to go to sleep, and then Tank came in before I could figure it out," explained Light.

"That's pretty much what happened," agreed Tank. "Oh, god damn it! Where is the - Oh, shit! You _did_ break the fucking eggs, didn't you? Fuck, Greg. How the hell am I supposed to -"

"Light and I can go and fetch some fresh ones," interrupted L, seizing the opportunity to leave. And especially to get Light out of Greg's presence, but L wasn't quite ready to admit to himself why he was so desperate to see those two seperated.

Light shot him a look, but L ignored him.

"Well, Spikey, if you think you can find the store, sure. Just take a left at the drive way, walk down five blocks, take a right, then another three blocks and you're at the store," explained Tank, his good mood returning at the prospect of new eggs.

"Come on, Light-kun," ordered L, standing up. Light stood up as well.

"If ya need me to show ya the wa -"

"We'll be fine, Greg. Thank you," replied L, not even looking over his shoulder at the man as he walked out the kitchen, in what was hopefully the direction to the front door.

"Er, we'll be right back, you guys," called Light, hurrying to catch up.

Once the front door was closed, and L and Light were safely a block away, Light decided to speak.

"What's up with you? I know you don't like people, but Greg and Tank -"

"I know, Light-kun. Greg is your uncle and Tank is the man who saved your life -"

"Actually, they both saved my life," pointed out Light.

"I'm aware of that. But I think we need to find alternate arrangements. You forget who I am. They may not harm a hair on your head, but I'm a different matter altogether," said L, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure -"

"Your uncle. He's likes money?" asked L suddenly.

Light blinked. "I suppose. He gambles enough as it is, but what does that have to do with -"

"Three billion dollars."

Light paused. "Excuse me?"

"Three billion American dollars. Do you know how much that converts to in Japan? 283,668,066,586 yen. That's the highest bid for my head. No matter how much they like you, if they find out who I am, three billion dollars, 1,865,990,679 British pounds, would go a long way in easing any guilt they might have for my blood on their hands. And you know it would be easy for them to kill me. That Tank fellow kills for a living, Light. And you're uncle proved to have no qualms in killing a man or three."

They walked on, a heavy silence between them.

"I'll have to get my duffle bag. Before we leave," said Light quietly.

L nodded. "Then we'll get it upon our return."

"What am I going to say to them?" asked Light, kicking a soda bottle out of his path.

"Who says we have to say anything?"

"So we're just going to sneak out?"

"A clean break," agreed L.

Light sighed. "Where are we going to go?"

L shrugged. "I need my computer. I suppose we should head back to Whammy's House."

Light turned to look at him as if he had lost his mind. "Back to the orphanage? Are you nuts? Might as well as give Roger our heads on a silver platter! I'll buy you a new computer, L, for Christs sakes!"

"You don't understand, Light-kun. My laptop is the only way that L _the detective_ connects with the world. I guarantee that we'll eventually need those connections afforded by my position as the three top detectives in the world. Money, contacts, case information - it's all on that laptop, and I'll be damned if I let it fall into someone else's hands," said L, determined to get his way.

"Oh fine. You're probably right," conceeded Light.

"Oh? I'm _right_? Lawli 7,141 to Light 7,143, then. Seems like I'm catching up," smirked L.

Light aimed a punch at his head, which L happily dodged. It was just like old times, and that made L smile. Despite the odds, they had found each other once again, and L couldn't remember a time when he had been any happier than he was in that moment.

* * *

**A/N: **There you are people!

Now, **SAY A LITTLE SOMETHING**! (Preferably _awesome_!). I feel as if we are progressing nicely. Don't you?

**And isn't Jealous!L adorable!?!**

(((I will eventually get around to editing this chapter, but I figure no one wanted to wait much longer, ne?)))

**OVER 100,000 WORDS!?!?! XD XD XD XD**


	27. Happiness Found

**A/N: **I GOT A NEW LAPTOP!!!!! YESH!!! And damn, it is SOOO nice. :D Thank y'all for your kind words of sympathy. I will miss my lovely pink dell laptop dearly, but I have a NEW lovely black dell laptop now, and it IS SO FUCKING SWEET! YESH! XDXDXDXDXD

Hahaha . . . yeah . . . I didn't realize that some people wouldn't be able to review because of that silly author's note. Lol, sorry! My bad! XD

Okay you guys, :D Now that my computer problems are hopefully out of the way, chapters should be a bit more frequent! Which is always awesome, no?

Here we go again!

Oh, and I just realized - It's our **THREE MONTH ANNIVERSARY**! :D Yes, my friends, it was three months ago this very day that I posted the first chapter of this story. Damn, what a ride it's been! And after three months together, I can honestly say, I'm am soooo in love with you all! XD

_**HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, YOU GUYS!**_

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Happiness Found_

* * *

Light honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a grocery store. Grocery shopping – it was so mundane, so painfully _normal_. It was everything that his life hadn't been for months. The only thing remotely interesting about the impromptu shopping trip, besides the markedly different products and layout of a typical English grocery store compared to its Japanese equivalent, was L himself.

Light stared at L's hunched figure in interest. The other man diligently compared the prices of two different cartons of eggs. It made such a strange picture.

"What do you suppose is the difference between these two, Light-kun?" asked L, opening one of the cartons and peeking inside.

"One's blue and one's pink?" answered Light sarcastically.

"I don't mean the cartons, Light-kun. I mean the eggs," replied L.

Light rolled his eyes. "They're _eggs_, Ryuuzaki. They all come from the same place."

"Yes, but why is that one more expensive than this one right here?" asked L, holding up both cartons of eggs.

"Just pick one, and let's go," said Light, crossing his arms.

"But Light-kun, is there something wrong with the one that costs less? I wouldn't want to purchase sub-par food," stated L, his eye widening with sincerity.

Light bit back a groan before grabbing the less expensive blue carton out of L's hand. "Come on."

"But Light-kun -"

"Just shut up, Ryuuzaki! There's nothing wrong with it, and besides, it doesn't matter which one we buy! It's not like you're going to eat any. You hate eggs," argued Light, striding towards the checkout line in determination. There was no way in hell he'd let L drag him back to the egg display.

"I suppose Light-kun has a point," said L grudgingly, easily keeping up with Light.

"Of course I do," said Light, his chin rising just a bit.

L snorted, and Light threw him a glare.

The check out line was particularly long, much to Light's dismay. Light glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye. L was gnawing thoughtfully on his thumb, and there was a muted expression of longing on his face. Light followed L's line of sight, only to be met with a candy display. Light chuckled softly.

This brought L's attention back to him. "What is it that Light-kun finds so humorous?"

"Oh, nothing," said Light, smiling to himself. L's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't push.

"Mummy! Look at that man's face!" loudly whispered a voice.

"Hush, Molly. He'll hear you," admonished a woman.

Light coughed uncomfortably, not only aware of the attentions of the small child behind him, but also of L. L smirked at him, and Light wished he could have punched that look right off the other man's face. L looked far more presentable than Light did, for once. Light's nose, while thankfully not broken, was swollen and purple. His cheek still sported an harsh, red slash, and the other side of his face was heavily bruised.

"Not one word, Ryuuzaki," warned Light under his breath.

"I wouldn't dream of it," replied L with feigned nonchalance.

* * *

They took their time walking back to Tank's house. Mainly because Light couldn't wrestle up the energy to do more than stroll. He was so tired. Light hadn't had the opportunity to sleep much, and unlike L, who seemed to thrive on sleep deprivation, Light didn't feel up to his usual standards. He felt slow, lethargic, and both physically and emotionally drained from earlier events. The past twenty four hours had been very demanding.

"Is Light-kun feeling alright?" asked L.

Light blinked his eyes open. They had been dropping of their own accord. "Just tired. It seems to have hit me all the sudden."

L nodded in understanding. "You should rest before we leave."

"When are we going to do that? Leave, I mean?" asked Light, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"Tonight," L replied simply.

Light looked at his wristwatch. "It's already noon? Damn."

They continued on in silence for another block before Light finally worked up the nerve ask L a question that had been bothering him all morning.

"Hey, L?" started Light, his voice only shook with slight hesitation, and Light stubbornly chalked it up to exhaustion.

L startled, tearing his gaze away from what Light guessed was a bakery, if the cake displays were anything to go on.

"Yes, Light-kun?" L tilted his head to look at him. Light swallowed, nervous now that he had opened up communication.

"Are you – well, how are you?" asked Light, cringing. He was usually much more articulate than this. He really _must_ be tired.

L gave him a questioning look. "As well as I can be, given the circumstances."

"Ahh, yeah, about those circumstances . . . " Light trialed off, undecided on how he should phrase his question. It would probably be best if he just plowed ahead. "You're taking all of this fairly well. The Kira thing, Roger, Light Layfield, me being alive . . . that's a lot to take in for one day. Frankly, I don't know whether to be relieved or worried that you seem to be wholly unaffected, and -"

"Light-kun," interrupted L. "You, out of everyone, must understand that I do not operate on the level that most people do."

That gave Light pause. Of course he realized that. Neither did he, but L was still human, and a human could only handle so much before they cracked.

"I might have had some difficulty in the beginning, but I have come accept this turn of events for what it is, and I wish to make the best of it all," finished L. Light frowned in disbelief.

"You've only known about all this for a few hours. That's not nearly enough time for you to be okay with everything," pointed out Light.

L smirked. "Well, maybe not for you, but my mind operates on an entirely -"

"Okay, fine. You're alright. I get it," huffed Light, cutting off L before he could get too snarky.

"Just keep in mind, Light-kun, that if certain events had not played out the way that they have, things would not be as they are now," reminded L.

"And that's a bad thing?" asked Light, thinking about the mess they were in.

"I'm not stupid, Light-kun, despite what you may think. I know with certainty that one of use would have been dead by now, had this not come to pass," said L, bringing his thumb up to rest against his lips.

Light's mind flashed to Rem and his plan to kill L. It was true. If none of this had happened, then L would be dead now. Light would have murdered him.

He shuddered, cold at the thought. "Yeah, I know."

Light nervously glanced at his companion, if only to reassure himself that the man was alive and breathing. The thought of L dying made Light – well, he didn't know what it made him feel. There was no one word to describe the horror, pain, and desperate grief that ghosted at the edge of his mind at such a thought. He knew one thing though. He wouldn't be able to hold himself together if he lost L now.

They turned a corner, retracing their previous steps back to the Tank's house, each lost to their own thoughts. It wasn't until they were almost upon the house that L broke the quiet.

"Thank you," he murmured softly.

Light turned to look at him in confusion. "What for?" For not killing him? Yeah, no problem.

"For caring. And for being alive. I was not a happy person without you, as either Yagami Raito or Light Layfield, but now that you are back, now that I have _both_ of you back, I can safely say that I can't recall a time that I have ever been more content. Besides, having Light-kun with me makes any surprise revelation that rears its ugly head manageable," admitted L.

Light smiled, L's words making him feel warm. "You're welcome. And just to let you know, I'm pretty happy that I have you back too."

L returned his smile, making Light's smile widen. It made him feel like everything was going to be okay. They were both alive. They hadn't murdered each other. They were fairly safe at the moment, and if anything did happen, Light knew that L would be by his side to see it through.

* * *

"You sort of remind me of the walking dead," said Tank upon their entry to the kitchen.

Light frowned, handing the grocery bag to Tank. "Ryuuzaki can't help it if he's a little pale," Light paused. "Okay, well, maybe he _can_, but -"

L shot him an incredulous look while Tank waved his hand dismissively as he put the eggs away. "No, no! Not Spike! I'm talking about you, Asian guy! Yeah, sure, Spike looks a little emo, but that's a pretty popular style these days, and he pulls it off. You, on the other hand, look like a zombie."

Light blinked. "Me?"

"'_Emo_?'" questioned L slowly.

"Yeah, you, Asian guy. You look half dead. Oh, but then again, I'm the one who keeps interrupting your sleep, huh?" chuckled Tank.

Light huffed, giving Tank a pointed glare. "I can't argue with that."

"Greg's already asleep up in that bedroom that I was going to put you in. So that means you and Spike will have to share the other room. I'm sorry to say that there's only one bed," said Tank, leering at them.

Light tried to ignore the look, but Tank was anything but subtle. "It's nearly one. Why's Greg sleeping?"

"Eh. I don't know. He sleeps a lot. I want to go back to sleep too, but I need to go workout. I haven't been all week. I wasn't born this buff, you know," said Tank, flexing his arms ostentatiously.

"Could have fooled me," said L under his breath, looking warily at the towering figure of Tank.

Light ignored both of them. "Which room will we have to share?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, the one Spike was using earlier. But, hey, if you want to share with Greg, then I'm sure he won't mind. Seems you've shared a bed before, if what Greg's been saying's true," said Tank coyly.

Light choked. "That only happened once! And I was drunk! It wasn't like I purposefully chose to pass out in his bed!"

Light didn't see the poisonous look that crossed L's face.

"Hey! You want some pancakes?" asked Tank suddenly, gesturing towards a stack of fluffy, sprinkled pancakes.

"I thought you needed eggs to make pancakes?" asked Light, eyeing the multicolored mess.

Light was somewhat amused that L and Tank snorted in laughter at the same time, but since it was obviously at his expense, he kept his amusement to a minimum.

"Light-kun obviously does not cook," observed L.

"You can say that again, Spikey. You don't put eggs in pancakes, Asian guy."

"No? But you put sprinkles?" asked Light defensively. It wasn't his fault he didn't know what went into a pancake. They had rarely been made in the Yagami household.

"Well, yeah! Sprinkles are the shit!" exclaimed Tank, pumping his fist. Light noticed L slowly moving farther away from the huge man. Light didn't blame him. Tank was a bit overbearing.

"Then what do you need the eggs for? If they don't go in the pancakes," yawned Light, covering his mouth. He felt himself fading. He'd have to find a bed soon.

"They're for the cake I'm baking tonight," explained Tank, obviously excited at the prospect.

"Cake?" asked L, his posture straightening out slightly. The sight gave Light a mental image of a puppy perking up at the sound of a can opening. Light shook the image away. He really was tired.

Tank nodded. "Yeah, it's my gerbil's birthday."

"You have a gerbil?" asked Light, his voice deadpanned. Tank just didn't seem like the type of guy who would be capable of keeping much alive. Maybe a cactus, but definitely not a pet.

"Yeah, Happy Meal the Third. I call him Happ. Had him for two years now. I baked a cake for him last year, and I thought I'd continue the tradition. He stays in my room."

"What sort of cake will you be making?" asked L. Light had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Strawberry with chocolate icing," grinned Tank, rubbing his hands together.

"Homemade or cake mix?" questioned L further, leaning forward in interest.

"Oh, homemade, of course!"

"Will you be using real strawberries in your mix?" L was biting his thumb now, his eyes wide.

"Like I would use anything else!"

"How about whipped -"

"Do gerbils even eat cake?" interrupted Light, who was not at all interested in the discussion. He really just wanted to find that bed now.

"Erm, no. But I do!" said Tank.

"Ugh. I'm going to bed," sighed Light, finally giving in. He didn't have it in him to be social anymore. There was just something about Tank that sucked all the energy out of a person, and what little Light had been working with was quickly depleting.

"I believe I'll join you, Light-kun," said L in response.

Light nodded, too tired to do anything else.

"Alright you two! Want me to wake you up when the cake's ready? It'll be awhile, though. I got to go work out, and then Oprah comes on at four. Plus, I need to pick up my dry cleaning, but I can definitely come get you when the cake's ready."

"That would be most agreeable," answered L, his eyes lighting up with the promise of cake.

Light just waved his hand carelessly, already halfway up the stairs.

By the time L had made it up the stairs and into the room, Light was already stripped down to his boxers and under the covers. He was adjusting the pillow under his head when he felt the weight of L cause the mattress to sink. If he hadn't of been so tired, Light might have smiled. This was the first time Light Layfield and L Lawliet - not Raito and L the detective - had shared a bed in years.

Light sighed peacefully, feeling comfortable and warm.

"Light-kun?"

. . . _god damn it_ . . .

Light bit back a groan. L was _ruining_ it. He was supposed to come in, get in bed, and at least _pretend_ to sleep for awhile so Light could get some rest.

"What?" he growled, making his annoyance audible.

"I want to go to the bakery down the street," stated L.

Light shoved L hard, sending the other man tumbling off the side of the bed.

"I'm not stopping you!" he exclaimed, throwing the blanket over his head.

L snickered from his place on the floor, and the sound was grating. "I thought the doughnuts on display in the window looked especially appetizing, however, you were stumbling your way through a convoluted inquiry into my emotional well being. I didn't want to interrupt."

Light blindly threw one of the pillows in the direction of L's voice, hoping that L wouldn't pull back the covers and witness Light's flush of embarrassment. "I don't care what you do as long as you let me sleep. So go eat your damn doughnuts. You remember the way, right?"

"Right," agreed L, shutting the door softly in his wake.

Light harrumphed. Stupid Lawli.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep after that.

* * *

It was the incessant beeping noise that woke him up.

Roger groaned, squinting and blinking against the harsh, white light.

"Roger! Old boy! Thank heavens you're awake!" rumbled a deep voice somewhere to his left. It was vaguely familiar.

He felt heavy and tired, so it was with great effort that Roger turned his head to see who it was that had spoken. _Quillish_? What on earth was that useless bag of bones doing in his room? And why was he hovering over him, wringing his hands like a worried mother hen?

He tried to ask Quillish this, but all he could manage was a dry croak.

Suddenly, the rim of a cup was placed gently against his lips. Roger drank greedily, sighing as the water eased his aching throat. With the water came a new awareness, and Roger looked around in dull surprise at what could only be a hospital room.

"Wha-" he coughed. "What happened?"

"Heart attack, old boy. You're right lucky to be alive," said Quillish gently, setting the cup of water back onto the hospital tray.

Roger stared dumbly, his brain barely processing the words before a nurse bustled in.

"Awake, are we? Dear Mr. Ruvie, didn't Dr. Langley warn you that you needed to lay off the double cheeseburgers? You were just in here yesterday. It's no surprise that you're back so soon. What with how high your cholesterol measured," tutted the nurse, who Roger half way remembered from his doctor visits.

He had gone to the doctor's yesterday, hadn't he? High cholesterol? He remembered something about high cholesterol. Roger tried to clear his head, but everything was so fuzzy.

"When do you think he can leave?" asked Quillish.

The nurse adjusted a knob on one of the many machines he was hooked up to. "You'd have to talk to the doctor about that, but I'd suspect either tomorrow afternoon or the next day. He's already cleared the hard part."

Roger wasn't paying attention to what the others were saying. Instead, he was trying to remember something . . . pressing. Yes, pressing. Very important. Something he had to deal with immediately or the consequences could be -

. . . could be . . .

. . . _could_ . . .

. . . _be_ . . .

Roger's breath quickened, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. His fists clenched the stark white bedsheets.

"Now, now, Mr. Ruvie. Your heart rate is increasing. There's nothing to be alarmed about. You're going to be fit as a fiddle in no time."

Roger felt the bottom of his stomach fall, and he turned his head to look at Quillish, who only regarded him with a concerned air.

"I'll send the doctor in just as soon as she returns from her lunch break," assured the nurse, who then quietly shut the door behind her.

Now that they were alone, Roger seized the opportunity.

"Quillish? Where's L?" he asked, hoping that the shake of his voice wouldn't give away his barely hidden panic.

"L? He's back at the House. I had to slip something in his tea last night once we got in. You know how he is. It's the only way I can get him to sleep. I didn't want to disturb him this morning. Although I knew he'd be worried, so I left him a note in his study. He'll find it when he wakes, I'm sure. I told him not to expect me until you're out of the hospital, which will hopefully be on the morrow, hmm?"

Roger nodded dazedly. _So the old man didn't know that L was_ . . .

"Do you need me to call in the nurse? You're looking a little green around the gills," observed Quillish, making to stand.

"No! No, thank you, dear friend. I'm just a little shocked, is all," replied Roger, his mind in turmoil. How the hell was he going to explain L's disappearance to Quillish? He only had until he was released from the hospital to throw together a working plan.

"Well, I hope you'll let me run down and pick you something up to eat for lunch. Hospital food is most unappetizing."

Roger's stomach rolled at the thought of food. "Yes, that sounds lovely, Quillish. Thank you."

Quillish nodded before retrieving his bowler hat and leaving. Once the door to his room had shut, Roger let out a low groan.

_What was he going to do now?_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there's Roger. :D And Watari. So you kinda know what's going on on that front. Oh, and that other question most people have been asking?! Yeah, can't really answer that . . . sorry . . . :D

Okay, well, it's late. I'm tired. And my sister is in here bothering me, so NIGHT! AND **SAY SOMETHING**!! (preferably snazzy cool!)

Oh, and sorry for the general lack of cliffhangers. They'll be returning soon. :D

((((((( okay, so, nothing pertinent to this story, but to the readers of Hacker of the Past, damn! What a cliffhanger! frnight! come on! You're killing us! But you're sooooo awesome anyway, so it's okay! XD))))))))))


	28. On the Sly

**A/N: **Awww, you guys?! Really!? I know I've become spoiled, but I got thirty reviews less than what I usually get for the last chapter! Is everybody on vacation? HAVE I LOST READERS?!?! Seriously, I wonder if it's something I did. Is the story going . . . . bad? HOMG! I've seen stories that go . . . bad. Oh, Lord, I hope mine hasn't!

D:

Le sigh. Oh well. At least_ I_ still like it, right? And thanks to everyone who DID review! Ugh. Maybe I'm just spoiled. Oh well. Whatevs, but I really appreciate everyone who's stuck with me! Sorry, sorry, I'm turning into one of those people who get butt hurt when things don't go their way. I'll chill now! XD

OOOOOOKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!

Here's the next chapter!

Beware! **Plot the Plottypus** rears its ugly head! (Ahahaha! Damn! I just came up with that! I LOVE IT! Imma use that shit from now on! . . . plottypus . . . LAWL! I crack myself UP!)

XD

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_On the Sly_

* * *

It was a quick, sharp prod to his side that made Light jerk awake.

"Ow!" he yelled, sitting up and blearily looking for the source of his annoyance. He just knew it was L, and Light had every intention of murdering the agitating man. So he was brought up short to see Greg Layfield smirking down at him. Light lazily flipped him off before burrowing back under the covers.

"Oi, Lightie. S'not very nice of ya to do that," chided Greg.

"G'way," said Light in response, his voice muffled by the pillow he had put over his head.

"I would, but I got to talk to ya. It's important," said Greg, sitting on the bed. Light had an overwhelming urge to viciously kick his uncle off.

"Don't wanna talk," he grumbled.

"Well how 'bout ya just listen then instead, eh?" suggested Greg.

Light didn't say anything. He just waited for his uncle to say his piece so that Light could get back to sleep.

"Eh? Ya hear me, Lightie? You'll listen to what I has to say, right?" asked Greg, poking Light once again in the side.

Light growled, throwing the pillow off his face. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

"Ignoring me," answered Greg immediately.

_If only it was possible to ignore him!_

"I'm listening, alright? Now get on with! I want to go back to sleep!" complained Light, glancing at the clock on the side table. He'd only been asleep for twenty minutes, if that.

"Tank told me 'bout that old man who wants to kill ya," Greg said in response.

Light hummed, too tired to really care if his uncle knew about psycho fucker or not. He supposed it didn't really matter either way now. He hadn't really wanted to tell Greg his motives for visiting him in the beginning, but now that Greg was here and apparently friends with Tank – the man who had been hired to kill him on Roger's behest – he figured Greg would have found out sooner or later.

"Light, I remember him. Roger Ruvie, right? Yer mum's adopted dad?" asked Greg.

Light perked up, feeling much more awake at the unexpected confession. "You remember him? From where?"

"Christmas," answered Greg with a careless shrug.

"_Christmas_?" repeated Light incredulously. Somehow linking psycho fucker and Christmas seemed wrong in Light's mind.

"Yeah. It was the Christmas yer mum was pregnant with ya. It's the only time I ever met him, but I remember that yer mum had to play peace keeper between him and yer dad. Charlie didn't like 'em, for some reason. Now that I think 'bout it, I remember a woman there too. She only came for a few hours Christmas day. That old man stayed for a few days. But anyhow, that musta been yer mum's sister. I don't think she liked him too much either," explained Greg, a thoughtful look on his face.

Light's mind slowly processed the information. So his father and Roger hadn't cared for one another? And supposedly his mother's sister didn't care for the man either. Light wondered if there was a connection between that and why Roger was after his blood, but he seriously doubted it was a case of Roger visiting the sins of the father upon the son. It had to be something more than petty hatred that led Roger to arrange for Light's death.

"Did ya ever figure out that thing I gave ya?" asked Greg suddenly, breaking Light away from his thoughts.

"Thing?" questioned Light, unsure as to what his uncle was referring to.

"Yeah, ya know. It was from yer dad?" prompted Greg.

From his . . . ? Light's eyes widened in realization. "I totally forgot about that. It's been in my duffel bag since you gave it to me."

"Guess I can't blame ya for fogetting. From what Tank's told me, you've had a pretty _eventfu_l couple of days," said Greg, and Light was mutely horrified and disgusted to see his that his uncle was scratching himself. It wouldn't have bothered Light overly if his uncle hadn't been sitting on his bed.

"I never got the chance to ask you, but what is it? I never even looked at it," asked Light, dutifully ignoring his uncle's crass behavior.

"Bunch of numbers is all I can tell. I don't know what it all means, but Charlie gave it to me a bit before 'e was murdered. Wanted me to keep it safe. Told me it was real important that I not let anyone get their hands on it. Think 'e wanted me to figure it out or something, but for the life of me, I don't know what it's all 'bout. That's why I gave it to ya. If yer half as smart as yer parents, then I'm sure whatever it is, you'll work it out. But whatever it ends up being, I got a sneaking suspicion that yer parents died for it."

"You think that my parents were killed because of it?" asked Light, his mind racing.

"I don't rightly know, Light. All I know is that right before they died, yer dad was acting all strange like. Yer mum, not so much, but she always had a good 'ead on her shoulders. Didn't freak out easily. But if I was a bettin' man, and believe me, Lightie, I am, then I'd bet it had something to do with all that secret military stuff yer parents were involved in. I'd bet they found out something someone didn't want them knowing, and they murdered 'em before they could do anything 'bout it."

Light silently mulled over Greg's words and the information he had received from Roger during their brief meeting. Spies. Roger had told him that his parents were British spies, heavily involved in MI-5.

But how did Roger know what his parents did in the military, if even his uncle, who had obviously been very close with his father if his father had trusted Greg with something so important, could only guess at what his brother and sister-in-law did?

No, there was a connection here. Whatever his parents had found out, whatever his father had entrusted to Greg, it had to have something to do with Roger. Why else would Roger know what his parents did? Granted, his mother could have told him, but that didn't explain why Roger was intent on killing Light. And maybe there was no connection at all, but Light's gut feeling didn't believe that for a moment.

And for the life of him, Light still didn't understand how Roger was connected to L, besides the obvious. How had Roger known about the relationship between L and himself? Did he make the connection after L had been taken to Whammy's? Or had he known before? And why did he want them apart? Did it have something to do with what Greg had given him?

Light couldn't even begin to guess, but one thing was certain. Whatever his father had given Greg and Greg gave to him in turn must be important, and if Light could figure out what Greg had tried and failed to uncover, then maybe it would help him find the answers he sought.

"Light?" asked Greg.

"Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought. This is just a lot to take in all at once," said Light.

"S'okay. I know it is, but Light, there's just one other thing I'm worried 'bout," started Greg hesitantly.

"What?"

"Well, it's about that guy that's with you. Ruu – something. Tank told me 'e was at that place that Roger runs. I know you know him and all, but don't ya think it's a bit strange that ya run into him at that place they train the genius kids at? I mean, Roger runs that place and all. 'E could be a spy," said Greg, his voice lowering conspiratorially.

Light stared. Fuck. What the hell could he say to that? He honestly hadn't thought about coming up with an excuse for L's presence at Whammy's. Wait, didn't Matt say that the orphanage has its own school? Yeah, the redhead had been skipping class, hadn't he?

That gave Light inspiration, and with the skills he had honed for years when the perfect facade had actually mattered to him, Light constructed an easy lie to feed his uncle. He schooled his face.

"His grandfather is a teacher there. Ryuuzaki's a friend from my college in Japan. My best friend, actually. And I knew that he was coming to England around the same time I was to visit his grandfather, I just didn't know his grandfather was a teacher at Whammy's," explained Light, the lie naturally spilling from his lip with ease.

"So you're saying it's just a big coincidence?" asked Greg skeptically.

"Yeah. Ryuuzaki's never even met Roger before. His grandfather only recently took up the post," said Light.

Greg nodded slowly. "Well, if yer sure you can trust 'im . . ."

"I'd trust his with my life," asserted Light firmly.

"But what's 'e gonna do 'bout his grandda?" asked Greg.

"Just let us worry about that. We'll come up with something," assured Light.

Greg smiled. "Well, if yer sure 'bout him, then okay. I'll trust yer judgement."

Light let out a mental sigh of relief. Well, that was one crisis averted. "Thanks, Greg. And I'll check out that thing you gave me, but first, please let me get some sleep."

Greg guffawed, punching Light's shoulder good naturedly. "Sure, little nephew."

And with that, Light was once again alone. However, sleep didn't come as easily as it had before.

* * *

"Shut _up_, Matt," growled Mello not even looking at the redhead.

Matt sighed. "I just don't think this is a good idea."

Mello narrowed his eyes, working the pick faster in his frustration. "He's not in there. We knocked and everything. So stop freaking out."

"What if he catches us? I had my video games taken away for a week last time. I can't go through that again, Mels!"

"Shut the hell up, Matt. _Fuck_, you piss me off. If you keep on wailing, then I'm sure someone will come along and hear us," gritted Mello, moving the metal pick slower, concentrating on moving the bit of metal just right.

_Click._

"About fucking time," grumbled Mello, standing up. He tried the door, and it opened easily.

Mello turned to him with a triumphant grin. "Ha. Told you I could do it."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get this over with."

"You can't tell me that you don't want to know about that guy either," said Mello, his eyes roving over the room greedily, as if expecting some juicy secret to pop out.

Matt shrugged, looking over their surrounding also.

Matt and Mello had never been in these rooms before, but Matt wasn't surprised to see that they were spacious and inviting. That was all of Whammy's House, really. What was surprising was the vast amount of candy bowls that littered every available surface. Mello immediately honed in on a bowl containing nothing but chocolate pieces.

"Hell yes! Jackpot!" he exclaimed, stuffing his pockets with handful after handful.

Matt ignored his friend, and instead, he took his time to do what they had come to do – snoop.

A piece of paper caught his attention, and Matt curiously picked it up from where it lay on the coffee table. As his eyes scanned the words, he felt his heart quicken.

"Holy shit," he whispered, shocked.

Mello paused from where he had been picking at the brightly colored tin foil of a chocolate. "What is it, Matt?"

"It – _It's L_!" exclaimed Matt.

This immediately grabbed the blonde's attention. "_What_? Let me see that!"

Mello grabbed the paper out of his hands, reading quickly. "Wha – Roger had a heart attack?"

"Who cares!? Look who it's addressed to! It's written to L! And look at who wrote it," said Matt, gesturing at the signature on the bottom.

"L . . . and Watari. Fucking hell, Matt. Do you know what this means?" asked Mello, his eyes widening

"Erm, we got the wrong room?" guessed Matt.

"_No_, you moron! That guy – he's L!" grinned Mello.

"You think so?" asked Matt skeptically.

"We have all the evidence we need right here, dumbass!" replied Mello, shaking the letter in Matt's face.

"Damn. He's younger than I'd thought he'd be," said Matt.

"I can't believe we were with him all that time, and he didn't even tell us!" yelled Mello indigently.

"What are you two doing in here?" asked a quiet voice.

Both Matt and Mello jumped in surprise.

"Near!" shouted Mello, a nasty scowl crossing his face.

The boy in question merely twirled a lock of his hair in response, staring at the two with slightly widened eyes from the opened doorway. Matt wanted to hit himself. He should have closed the damn door.

"You've met L," said Near. It wasn't a question.

Matt and Mello shared a look. "Yeah, what of it?" asked Mello gruffly.

"I suppose these are his rooms, then. What are you doing in them?" continued the smaller boy, ignoring Mello's question. If Matt was Near, he suspected he might have felt a bit left out. Especially considering Near's rank.

"What does it look like?!" yelled Mello, crossing his arms defensively.

"It looks like you are stealing L's candy," replied Near blankly.

"Uh, we were just leaving, actually," muttered Matt. "Come on, Mello."

"No, wait! I -" started Mello, but Matt didn't give him enough time to argue. He threw the letter back down onto the coffee table, grabbed Mello by the arm, and pushed them past Near, but not before slamming the door.

Mello growled, shooting a venomous look at Near as they passed, but otherwise let Matt lead him away. Near regarded them silently as they made their way down the hall, twirling a lock of fine white hair.

"Fucking Near. He ruins everything!" yelled Mello, jerking his arm out of Matt's grip. The blond stalked ahead of Matt, heading in the direction of their shared room. Matt sighed. He hoped the other boy had a stash of chocolate somewhere. Matt wasn't up to dealing with Mello in a bad mood today.

Matt followed slowly after Mello, lost in his thoughts. He was mildly concerned about Roger, but truth be told, the first time the man took away his video games was the day that Matt decided he didn't like the old geezer much. What really occupied his thoughts was L.

Contrary to Mello, Matt didn't much care for L's job. Detective work didn't look like much fun to him, and he didn't understand why his best friend coveted the title of L so much. Mello just didn't have the tempermant, but Matt supposed that Mello only wanted to beat Near to it. That made much more sense than Mello actually wanting the position because he enjoyed the work.

And L . . . he was so different than what Matt had imagined. No one from Whammy's had ever met the man. The one time the children of Whammy's ever had contact with the detective was once through a computer screen, and even then, it wasn't for very long.

Matt had never expected L to be so young or physcially attractive. The brunet he had spent hours with playing video games was really L? Matt shook his head in amazement. Why hadn't L told them who he really was? Why all the secrecy? Pretending to be a relative of Roger's and all that?

Maybe L was testing them. Maybe the detective wanted to get to know them without his identity influencing how they acted around him. Yes, that must be it. That was the only explanation that Matt could come up with that made logical sense.

He opened the door to his room, letting out a small, inaudible sigh of relief when he caught sight of Mello munching on a chocolate bar. Thank God the blond had had some left.

Matt spotted his Gameboy Advance, and he eagarly took up the console, flopping onto his bed.

"So what do you think we should do?" asked Mello around a piece of chocolate.

"About what?" mumbled Matt, most of his focus on the game in front of him.

"L."

Matt shrugged. "I don't know."

"Guess we'll just have to wait. Fuck. I hate waiting, but I hope he hangs out with us again. Do you thing he will?" wondered Mello, looking up from his chocolate bar.

"Maybe" said Matt absently, his fingers rapidly hitting the 'A' button.

"Don't you think it's weird that Roger didn't know it was L, though? He was all, 'Ohh, I thought you were dead!'" said Mello, lowering his voice on the last bit in a poor imitation of the old man.

Matt made a noise of agreement. "Who knows. Maybe he really did think L was dead. I doubt he's the most communicative of people."

Mello just sighed and looked away. "Whatever. I just - _really_ - fucking hate waiting."

Matt made no sign that he had heard the blonde's complaints. He was almost to the next level.

Mello glared. If there was one thing Mello hated more than Near, it was being ignored. "So when do you think he's going show up again?"

"You mean _if_ he shows up again. This is L we're talking about here," answered Matt, glancing up from his game.

"No shit. _Ugh_. Fucking Near . . ." Mello sat up from where he had been reclining on his bed. "Hey! L didn't hang out with Near, did he?"

"Nope," said Matt, popping his lips.

Mello started laughing, and it brought a small smile to Matt's face. Because Mello always sounded slightly psychotic when he laughed.

_

* * *

_" . . . Oh, and three of the glazed ones, please."

The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Is that all, sir?" she asked pointedly.

L bit his thumb, his eyes moving quickly over his large order. It might have been overkill, but he was hungry, and he could always save the rest for latter.

"Yes."

The clerk hit a few more buttons on the cash register. "That comes to 17 pounds exactly, sir."

L pulled out a wad of pounds before carefully counting out the correct amount. He gave the bored looking clerk a small smile before hefting the four boxes filled with doughnuts, small cakes, muffins, and cookies. He placed his burden on a table in the far corner of the room where he could easily see the door and through the large window to the street.

With a happy sigh, L opened a box. He breathed in the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins deeply, and carefully chose the biggest one. One bite, and L had to stop himself from moaning in delight. Maybe it was the blueberries, but Japan had nothing on blueberry muffins baked in England.

A familiar figure on the street caught his eye, and L watched with renewed interest as the assassin, of all people, paused across the street from the bakery. L quirked his head, noticing that the store across from the bakery was the dry cleaners. Hadn't the assassin said something about picking up his dry cleaning?

But why was he just standing there? Why didn't he go in?

L took another bite of his blueberry muffin, his eyes never leaving the hulking figure across the street. Something didn't sit right with him about this scene, and L always trusted his instincts. Something was off about that man. L had felt it the moment he had met him.

It was another ten minutes and four doughnuts before someone approached him. L bit his thumb, scrutinizing the well dressed stranger shaking hands with the assassin. The man wore sunglasses, so L couldn't see his features, but something about the man struck him as familiar.

L leaned forward, and if they weren't so far away, he would have been able to read their lips. He cursed softly under his breath. That was one conversation he wanted to be privy to. The men turned and entered into the dry cleaning store. L waited a moment, but they did not immediately come out.

L jumped out of his chair, leaving his pastries behind.

He needed to get Light, and fast. It was time for them to leave.

* * *

**A/N: **Bwahahahaha! Plot! Yay Plot!

Okay you guys, y'all know the drill, **SAY SOMETHING** (preferably ANYTHING!) :P

Oh, and I have a new one-shot! **_Kira and the King of Pop_**. Check it out! It's about Kira and . . . Michael Jackson . . . :D


	29. Exhaustion Breeds Contempt

**A/N: **Gack! Sorry I took so long, you guys! This chapter caused me quite a bit of trouble. I got so fed up with it, that I even started another story just to give me a break!

**LE GASP!**

Yes, this is true, **I HAVE A NEW STORY**! Really, I was trying to wait until I finished this before I took on any other big projects, but, well, the timing was right. Creatively wise, I suppose.

**SO PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!**

It's called **The Sound of Silence**, and it is HEAVILY inspired by Simon and Garfunkel's song (you guessed it!) The Sound of Silence, lol.

This story is much much muchMUCH more angsty than AoD, and it deals with sensitive subjects such as rape and suicide. It will also explore rape trauma syndrome, depression, and post traumatic stress disorder. In other words, THIS STORY IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN! So please give it a shot!

Anyways, I digress.

Here we go again, folks!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Exhaustion Breeds Contempt_

* * *

Poke.

"Light-kun!"

He was not moving.

Poke.

"_Light-kun_!"

He was not fucking moving.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Light-kun! Wake _up_!"

No way in hell. He absolutely refused to be bothered again. Greg hadn't left but ten minu -

_Shove._

Light tumbled to the floor, landing in an tangled heap of limbs and bed sheets. He sat up awkwardly, blinking sleep from his eyes, and glared at the man standing over him.

"God _damn_ it, Lawli! What the fuck is your problem!?" shouted Light, who was too muddled from sleep to realize his slip.

L seemed to realize it though, but it only gave him a moments pause before he ignored it all together. "We have to leave now, Light-kun."

Light gave him a nasty look. "Fuck off. I'm going back to sleep."

"This is not the time for Light-kun's beauty rest," snapped L. Light fell bonelessly onto his back, too tired to argue and too tired to move back to the bed. He closed his eyes and ignored the heavy weight of L's gaze. Maybe that would show L exactly how much he thought of all this _'leaving now'_ business.

L musn't have been pleased with Light's tactics, if the swift kick to the side was anything to go by.

"Oof!" grunted Light, immediately curling into himself.

"Stop being childish and get up. Time is of the essence," said L, moving out of Light's line of vision.

"_I'm_ childish?" gasped Light pointedly. If he was childish, then L was positively infantile.

"Yes, you are," agreed L genially. It was obvious that the incredulous inflection on _'I'm'_ had been lost to the detective.

"That was sarcasm, dipshit," growled Light.

Silence. Then, "I never did like sarcasm."

Light clutched his aching side. If he didn't feel like utter crap from being woken up again and again within the span of one measely hour, Light would have socked the panda-eyed little shit. But as it was, he settled by groaning and rebelliously staying right where he was.

However, the sounds of L moving about the room quickly killed Light's plan of staying prone on the floor. He lifted his head, aghast that L had his duffle bag open and was currently pulling out clothes. The last thing he needed was for L to find the Death Note.

"What are you doing?" asked Light, making quick work of the bed sheets. He stumbled to his feet.

"Surely Light-kun doesn't want to leave looking like that," replied L, blantantly taking in Light's nearly naked form.

Light looked down, just now realizing that he was only in his boxers. He narrowed his eyes. If he wasn't so tired, he was sure that he'd be trying his damndest to stifle a blush.

"Yes, well, by the look on your face, I'd say you wouldn't mind," said Light coldly, folding his arms.

L smirked. "Touche, Light-kun. Now please get dressed. We need to leave before the assassin returns."

"Tank? What for?" asked Light. He was relieved to see that L had stopped pawing through his things. Light took the proferred pair of trousers and didn't to let his thoughts linger on L's confident smirk, nor his unexpected response. It was almost as if the other man had been flir -

"While I was at the bakery, I saw your assassin friend meeting with someone across the street. I realize that these clandestine meetings may be normal in your friend's line of work, but I don't want to take any unnecessary risks with our safety. We are already in enough of a precarious situation as it is."

Light pulled a beige button up over his head, for once leaving his shirt untucked. He was too tired to care. Light exhaled heavily. He hadn't known Tank for very long at all, but he didn't think the huge man would make any moves against them. But L was worried, as he had every right to be in this situation, and it was Light's duty to protect him. If L felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave immediately, then Light wouldn't argue.

He just really wished he could have gotten a few more hours of sleep.

"Do you know where Greg is?" asked Light, putting on his shoes.

A dark look flitted across L's face. "He's taking a nap."

Light raised an eyebrow. A suspicious feeling wormed his way into his stomach when L wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You knocked him out, didn't you?" accused Light.

Lmade a noise in the back of his throat, zipping up Light's duffle back and handing it to him. "Light-kun knows me entirely too well."

Light took it. "You didn't do anything permanent, did you?"

L snorted. "Doubtful. Now come. We've wasted enough time as it is."

Leaving the house was anticlimatic. They didn't meet anyone along the way, no one was blocking the exit, and there wasn't even anyone outside to witness their departure. All and all, Light was exceedingly grateful.

Even though they were both unfamiliar with the town, it didn't take them long to find a bus station. A train would have been preferred, but the town they found themselves in, which the name was still unknown to Light, didn't have one.

Once they were inside the station, L lead Light over to the far wall. When faced with the bus schedule, Light's eyes started easing in and out of focus from exhaustion. He blinked rapidly, and shook his head. It didn't help much, but Light was able to make out the times. They had twenty minutes before the next bus to London ran. From there, they would take the train to Winchester.

They moved to the line, and when it came for their turn, Light was prepared to pay for the bus tickets back to London. He still had plenty of money from his father. However, he was surprised when L brought out a thick wad of money from the seemingly bottomlesss pockets of his blue jeans.

"Jeez. Where'd you get all that?" asked Light, eyeing the bills as L carefully counted them out before pushing it to the lady behind the glass.

"My work is lucrative," replied L simply.

Lucrative, huh? Light wondered exactly how much money his friend had made over the years as the world's top three detectives. Considering how extragant their headquarters had been – literally a whole building complete with helicopters – then Light shouldn't have been surprised. But really, he had never associated L with money.

Light studied the other man briefly as L pocketed the change from the clerk, and came to the realization that although he may have known quite a bit about L as a child, he knew relatively little about him as an adult. L was still L. That would never change, but what had happened to him within the past decade? Light didn't know.

And that was something he would have to remedy.

L took the tickets from the woman, handing one to Light. He smiled slightly when he realized the reason that L was carrying so much cash on him. He glanced at the detective sideways. "Let me guess. Credit cards are easier traced than cash?"

"Right in one, but that's not to say I don't have them," said L.

By the time they had gotten to their bus, it was nearly time to go. Light checked his wristwatch. "Eight minutes."

"I believe we can go ahead and board," said L, watching as a teenager got onto the bus.

"Yeah," said Light, shuddering as he saw all the people crowded around the busdriver, who was handling the luggage. He just knew that the bus was going to be cramped, and Light dearly hoped that his claustophobia would behave. That damned coffin had really done a number on him.

"Does Light-kun feel ill?" asked L suddenly. Light turned his head in surprise to look at the hunched man. He sometimes forgot how observant L was. Most people wouldn't have even noticed.

"Not . . . really," he said slowly. "But ever since I woke up in a coffin, I've had a thing against close spaces. The bus ride is going to be hell," continued Light in a suprising bit of honesty.

L turned to him, his eyes wide. He brought his thumb up and bit at it roughly. Light had the inane urge to jerk it away from his mouth, but quelled such desires when he noticed the way L was looking at him. Was L worried?

"I'll be fine," assured Light, making his point by climbing into the bus. He could handle it. He wasn't weak.

L joined him after a moments hesitation, and they found a seat together near the very back.

Light adjusted his duffle on his lap. There was no way that he was going to let the bus driver put it in the storage under the bus. Not with the Death Note inside.

"Maybe it would benefit Light-kun if he tried to sleep," suggested L, bringing his legs up. Light was amused to see that the detective had gone all of thirty seconds sitting normally before giving up and assuming his customary crotched position.

Light yawned at the mention of sleep. "You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea."

Light wouldn't know that forty minutes after he fell asleep, his head would drop to rest on L's shoulder.

And he definitely would miss the smile that tugged at L's lips.

* * *

It was dark by the time their train pulled into the Winchester station. Light breathed in deeply as soon as his foot hit the pavement. He felt much better now that he was off the train.

L munched noisily on a candy bar as they made their way to the front entrance. Light hadn't bothered with getting anything before boarding the train. He didn't think he could stomach eating food while trying to stave off the effects of claustophobia, but L had no qualms about buying an inordinate amount of sweets. Nausea found Light after watching L wolf down eleven candy bars in a row. He was on his twelfth now, and had two more stuffed in his pocket.

As they exited the train station, Light took in the sight of Winchester. He had been too shaken from the events at his uncle's apartment to really appreciate how quaint the town was. It was a stark contrast to Tokyo. The squat buildings and gothic cathedrals looked like something out of a medival storybook, but the antiquity was offset by the cars that zoomed up and down the road and the bright street lights.

The wind ruffled his hair, and Light ran a hand through the auburn locks, trying to tame it back into place. It annoyed him that he hadn't even had time to shower, not to mention _sleep_, within the past few days.

L, having finished his candy bar, fished another one out of his pocket, and started down the sidewalk in the direction of where Light knew Whammy's House to be.

"So should we go now or later?" asked Light, readjusting his shoulder strap.

"What time is it?" asked L. Or, that was what he meant to say, and Light was easily able to translate the mumbled, candy muffled question after a moment's thought.

He glanced at this watch. "Just half past nine. I guess it was a good thing that we waited for the later train. We'd be sitting in the station for a while otherwise."

"The children's curfew is nine. They should all be in their rooms by now. So I suppose there's no time like the present," said L clearly before taking another bite of his candy bar.

"But so early? Are you sure that's a good idea? What if Roger is about? Or -" and Light cut himself off. They both knew who Light was going to ask about.

"I have every confidence that I will be fine, Light-kun. Believe it or not, but I am specially trained in sneaking in and out of places," pacified L, crumpling the candy bar wrapper and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

Light didn't know what to do first. Interrogate L about this "special training" of his or scold him for littering, but something else caught his attention.

"What do you mean, '_I will be fine_?!' I'm not letting you go in there alone," yelled Light. An older woman glared at Light, supposedly for being so loud, and gave the two a wide berth, which in and of itself was saying something since Winchester's sidewalks were rather narrow in that part of town.

L just looked at him blankly. "I know Whammy's House better than you do Light-kun, and you know that it will be easier to get in and get out undetected if it was just one person. Who better than myself?" asked L.

Light grinded his teeth in irritation, but he knew that L had a point. Whammy's House really was a massive maze of hallways. "Fine. But what am I supposed to do?"

"You? You're supposed to keep a look out, of course," replied L, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Look out? Where am I going to be looking from?" asked Light suspiciously.

"Hmm. Perhaps the woods just beyon -"

"NO! I'm not going to hide in the woods like a coward when you're _throwing_ yourself at danger!" exclaimed Light, angry that L would even suggest such a thing to him.

L surprised Light by groaning. "Must Light-kun always be so disagreeable? He's acting like a menopausal woman."

"A menpau - ?" the insult sunk in. "Fuck you, Ryuuzaki."

"Hm. Not today, I think, Light-kun," said L easily.

Light made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "How do _you_ even know how a menopausal woman acts?! You such a -"

"Oh, look. We're almost there," interrupted L cheerily.

Light turned to look at what had caught L's eye. He might not have been overly familiar with the area, but even he knew from previous expirience that they weren't anywhere close.

"No, we're not. We have at least another thirty min-"

"Will Light-kun be terribly upset if I asked him to wait for me outside of the gate?" asked L, cutting Light off once again.

Light forcefully shoved his anger and annoyance down. He knew that L was only changing the subject to avoid a fight, and while Light agreed that fighting now was probably not the best of times, a childish part of him wanted to deck his friend for being an idiot. Didn't L realize that Light was supposed to protect him? How much help could Light be if he was standing outside twiddling his thumbs? What if Roger caught L? What if Watari really was on Roger's side and tried to hurt him? How could Light live with himself if he let L waltz right into that situation without him?

L waved his hand in front of Light's face. "Hellooo. Earth to Light-kun."

Light batted the hand away. "Fine. I'll stand guard outside of the bloody gates."

L smirked victorious, and it was all Light could do not to smack the man upside his head. Light balled his fists and curtailed his inappropriate urges. Now was not the time. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

"I've noticed that Light-kun is feeling particularly violent this evening," observed L, glancing at a very tense Light from the corner of his eye.

Light huffed, but felt that the question went deeper than that. Light's emotions had been all over the place lately. It was almost like he couldn't screen them like he used to, and L must have realized that. Light had been a master of controlling his emotions, of only letting what he wanted other people to_ think_ he felt show. But ever since he realized that he had been plotting to murder his best friend, ever since he realized _exactly_ who L was and _exactly_ how much the Death Note had fucked him up, well, Light's emotions had gone haywire. And it didn't help him come to grips with everything when _every bloody time_ he turned around _someone_ was trying to kill him.

But Light didn't really want to explain that all to L. Not now, at least. So he settled on the easy explanation. It was the truth, after all, just not the truth that L might have been asking for in his roundabout way.

"I can barely remember the last time I had a full night's _uninterrupted_ sleep. I'm tired, my blood sugar's low, and I'm worried about you rushing off into that damn orphanage by yourself. _Of course_ I'm in a bad mood."

L shrugged before digging into his pocket, obviously letting the matter drop for now. He brought out a brightly wrapped chocolate bar that looked misshapened, like it might have melted a bit in L's pocket.

"Candy bar?" offered L.

Light didn't feel that the offer deserved an answer.

* * *

"Where the fuck could he be?" grumbled Mello.

Matt grunted. He didn't know, and he was kind of getting annoyed at how many times throughout the day that Mello had asked him the same question.

Mello, who just _really_ didn't like to be ignored, grabbed the Gameboy Advance from Matt's hands and threw it across the room.

"The hell, Mello?! I was on level 94! If it's brok -"

"I'll buy you a new one, fucktard! Damn it! Just – I want to go look for him!" yelled Mello, gesturing violently.

Matt sighed, feeling agitated. "We've already done that, Mells. If he doesn't want to be found, then I seriously don't think he's going to be. I mean, come on! It's _L_! Staying out of sight is the kind of shit he does for a living."

Mello growled. "Damn it, Matt. I want to -"

"Okay! Fine! I'll help you look for him, but let's wait until later, okay?"

"How long?" asked Mello petulantly, crossing his arms and glaring at the red head. Matt had to stiffle a laugh. Mello wouldn't think twice about punching him if he knew that Matt was laughing at him.

"Eh, give it an hour, at least. Surely you can find something to entertain yourself with in the mean time. Or are you going to make _me_ entertain you?" asked Matt, rolling off his bed. He really hoped Mello hadn't broken his game console. It would be the fourth one if he had.

Mello didn't respond. He only muttured angrily under his breath as he searched for something beneath his bed.

Matt picked up his Gameboy gingerly, almost afraid to turn it over and see if it still worked, but as soon as he flipped the console over, he let out a breathe of relief that he hadn't even realized he was holding. Not only was his Gameboy fine, but it was still on. All that hard work didn't go to waste after all! He was still on level 94!

"Thank God," he mumbled, shooting Mello a sour look.

He blinked in surprise as he caught sight of the blonde. Mello had obviously found what he had been looking for. "Is that Near's robot?"

"Yeah," replied Mello, standing the toy on its feet.

"What the – are you _playing_ with it?" asked Matt in disbelief.

"Fuck off, Matt! I'm _not_ playing with it! And even if I was, it was YOU who said I needed to find something to entertain myself with, but that doesn't matter! 'Cause I'm not playing with it!" yelled Mello, all the while moving one of the robot's arms up in a pose.

Matt scratched his head, trying to reconcile what Mello claimed and what he was actually doing. "Well from where I'm standing, it kind of looks like -"

"Why don't you fucking stand somewhere else then," interrupted Mello without even looking at Matt.

Matt shrugged, and went and stood on the other side of the room. "Amazingly enough, it _still_ looks like you're playing with it."

"Smart ass," growled Mello, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a lighter. A very familiar lighter.

"Hey! That's mine!" exclaimed Matt, moving to snatch it back from the blonde klepto.

Mello brought it close against his chest. "I'm only borrowing it, Matt. Now seriously, fuck off."

"Oh, yeah? Let me guess. You're only _borrowing_ Near's robot, right? I'm sure he'll be getting it back tomorrow," said Matt sarcastically.

"Actually, you're right. I _am_ giving Near his robot back tomorrow," replied Mello, grinning. Matt felt wary at that grin. Mello was up to something, if the grin was anything to go by. Mello's grins looked particularly evil, and besides, it wasn't like Mello to give something he stole_ back_ to Near. Things Mello took usually ended up in pieces somewhere in the woods behind Whammy's. Or in the cook's spaghetti. Whatever was more convenient at the time.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Wha-?"

And that was when Mello promptly took the lighter, lit it, and held the flame against the plastic of the toy robot.

"Oh," said Matt, grimacing at the smell of burning plastic.

Yeah, Near _would be_ getting his robot back after all. Matt didn't doubt it.

* * *

After leaving Light pouting outside the gates of Whammy's House, L quickly and quietly made his way to the set of rooms that he always used while visiting the orphanage, which admittedly hadn't been very often. L planned on putting the irritable man to bed just as soon as they got out of here and found a motel. Light's contrary mood was wearing on his nerves, and the only way he thought to fix it was if the brunet slept for a few more hours.

L was surprised to find the door to his rooms unlocked. He wasn't expecting them to be, but L decided he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Just as L was about to push the door open, a sudden thought made him pause.

What if Watari was in there? Maybe Watari was waiting for him. Maybe Watari _and Roger_ were standing just on the other side of the heavy wooden door waiting for him to enter.

L shook his head to rid himself of such nonsense. That wasn't logical. Roger thought he was dead. Who knows what Watari thought, but either way, he doubted that they would be expecting him.

Watari.

L winced at the thought of the older man. As one of the only people in the world that L truly cared for, it hurt more than anything to believe that Watari was in league with Roger. But there was nothing L could do about it now. Whether Roger had fed Watari some half assed excuse for his disappearence or whether they were silently sipping brandy somewhere in celebration of his death, L really shouldn't be dwelling on such things. Especially out in the middle of the corridor where any wandering soul could happen upon him.

He scolded himself. There was a time and a place for such depressing ruminations, and now was definitely not the time. L pushed open the door with grim expectations, but to his relief, he found his rooms dark and empty.

L knew that Watari always placed his laptop underneath the bed when those little drugging episodes happened. That way L could reach down and work in bed while the drugs wore off if he was too muddled to function out of bed.

He didn't bother to turn on the lights. The moonlight shining though the large windows provided just enough light for L to make out the placement of furniture and the dark outlines of the bedroom door.

However, he felt safer turning on the bedroom light. The windows faced the woods instead of the grounds. True to his conjecture, his laptop case was underneath the bed, and L hefted it onto his shoulder. The familiar weight was comforting.

Looking into the wardrobe, L found his bag of personal effects. Seeing his unpacked bag brought him mixed emotions. Was it still packed because Watari had been too tired to unpack it that night? They had gotten in rather late. Or was it still packed because Watari thougth he'd never need to if L was dead?

He was doing it again. L grabbed the bag, shutting the wardrobe and putting all thoughts of Watari out of his mind.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him, something on the coffee table caught his eye. Could that be . . .?

Yes! Candy!

L let a small smile of delight cross his face. He snatched handful after handful out of the bowl, stuffing them into his pockets for later. There was no chance in hell that he'd pass up on free candy.

Then he noticed what appeared to be a piece of paper lying next to the candy bowl. L frowned and picked it up. He couldn't make out the words, so he went to stand in front of the window where the moonlight could better clarify.

_L -_

_I apologize for not waking you, but since you aren't up yet, I would rather let you sleep. You surely need it after the trying few weeks we've had. But I'm afraid that I have some bad news, dear boy. Nothing too bad, so please don't fret. Since you were still asleep this morning, I decided that I would carry out the plan on my own, you see._

_However, when I walked into his office, Roger was already there. Yes, a pity, I know, but the appalling thing was that the poor man suffered a heart attack upon seeing me. I admit that I wanted to surprise him, but nothing like this. Don't worry, he's fine. I've only returned from the hospital to check on you, but when I knocked on your door, all was silent. I'm so proud of you for resting into the late morning. Hopefully you're still asleep, but I shan't bother you. Let sleeping dogs lie and what not._

_I hope that you'll be able to handle yourself for a few days. They've transferred Roger to the hospital in London. Better specialists, you know. I plan to stay in a hotel room there so I can be closer to him. He doesn't have anyone else, and I hate to think of the poor man up there all alone. I know you understand. But don't let this deter you from your original purpose. Get to know the boys, and I'll be back before the end of the week with Roger in tow._

_Try to sleep again tonight. And stay away from that laptop! You may be the greatest detective in the world, but as you said yourself, this is your holiday, and I expect you to rest! Contact me on my cellular if you need me._

_Watari_

L quirked his head, reading through the letter a second time. The first bit was cause for a smidgeon of sadistic amusement. Roger had a heart attack? Really? Lovely.

But what did this letter mean? If the letter was to be believed, then this was evidence against Watari being in league with Roger. L dared not to hope, but it was hard. Watari had been there for him for so many yea -

Something hard and heavy struck his head from behind, and L crashed to the ground, unconcious.

* * *

**A/N: **Ouch. That probably hurt.

Hey! Guess what? I just ordered an L plushi from amazon dot com ! I'm so excited! XD

Okay you guys! Y'all know the drill! SAY SOMETHING!

**And check out my new story!** :D Please?! XD


	30. Escape From Whammy's

**A/N: **Hahaha! Wow! I suck balls!

I mean, damn, I'm one of the worst authors in the world for keeping you people waiting so long! Geez, I bet half of you won't even want to bother with this story anymore. Hell, I don't blame you. I have excuses, reasons, writer's block woes etc, but I'll save that bullshit for another time, huh?

This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's been waiting for my slow ass to update, and especially to those who never gave up on me, most specifically **Jen -- random reader**, **LxLight is the best**!, and **Ileranerak**.

Also, special dedication to **Kari Kurofai**, who sent me a PM with a link to two youtube videos done for AoD and asked me if that would get me updating again. I was like, "Hell yeah!" and then waited another month before I got this up here. Sorry, **Kari Kurofai**, but thanks man. You rock. And feel free to make as many as you want! Links'll be up on my profile tomorrow!

And even more special dedication to **Cameron Kennedy**, who has more than once threatened to hold certian things ransom and to kick my ass if she didn't get an update. Thanks, girl!

Okay, okay, enough my blabbering.

Here's the next installment.

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_That Chapter You've Been Waiting For_

* * *

The air was crisp, and the cold was particularly biting, but Light did his best to ignore it – until he sneezed.

"Aw, shit," he murmured as he looked for a suitable place to wipe his hand. With no alternative in sight, Light grudgingly swiped his hands across the grass. There was no way in hell he'd lower himself to soiling his trousers, and no matter how juvenile the act he'd just committed was, it was a necessary evil.

"Fucking English weather," he sniffed, trying to clear his slowly conjesting nasal passages. It had been gradual, and Light hadn't even noticed that it was coming on until just a few moments ago, but it was obvious that his lack of sleep had severely compromised his immune system. The stress probably didn't help, and he knew for damn sure that the chilly temperature was only encouraging his declining health.

"Hurry up, Lawli," muttured Light as he let his head thump softly against the high brick walls of the orphanage gate. He had the urge to let his back slide down the wall until he was sitting, but figured he'd fall asleep if he got too comfortable. He needed to be alert if things went south.

Speaking of south, Light sure wouldn't mind being somewhere south of England. Africa, perhaps. Maybe Egypt. He'd love to be in a desert right about now. Seeing the pyramids would be an added bonus. Maybe him and Lawli could go there one day, now that they'd found each other.

He vaguely remembered that they had planned to go looking for lost treasures in Egyptian tombs one day when Light was around five, but then Walter had told them that the mummies would eat them. Light had pictured middle aged women coming at them with forks and knives before Lawli told him what an Egyptian mummy was. Lawli didn't want to go after that, but maybe he would go with Light later, after all this bullshit with Roger was over.

Light shook his head, trying to remove such inane thoughts. They weren't making him any warmer, and they wouldn't do him any good here in the middle of the English countryside. He checked his watch again. Thirty three minutes. Did it honestly take thirty three minutes to retrieve a single laptop? Light blew out his breath, watching as it lazily hung in the air before disappating. Damn, it was cold.

And L was taking too long.

* * *

"Holy shit. I think you killed him."

"Psh. He's fine. Just knocked out."

"How do you know?!"

"Look! He's breathing, isn't he? So he's not dead!"

"Oh my God we are going to get in so much trouble for this!"

"Like hell we are!"

"Why did you have to knock him out?! We don't even know who he is! He might've supposed to been in here!"

"Fuck that! He's stealing L's stuff! We'll get a reward if anything, and the best part is that Near wasn't the one -"

"I don't want to hear you whining about Near right now! I want to hear about what we're gonna do with this weirdo before he wakes up!"

"Fine, arsehole. Hmph. . . kinda looks like he's on meth, doesn't he?"

"How do _you _know what someone on meth looks like?"

"Internet."

"Damn it Mello, I -"

"Shh!"

Matt froze, and looked towards the door in apprehension, his ears straining, but nothing was heard. He turned his glare back to the blonde and opened his mouth.

Mello waved his hand hard in warning, his face snarling, and Matt let his mouth close with a small click. His lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. Mello was probably just screwing with him. Maybe this was a Mello way of winning the tiff they were in. He wouldn't be surprised if –

_Creak._

Matt's head jerked towards the door, and his heart thumped hard against his chest. Shit. Someone was just outside the door, and Matt would bet money that whoever it was had heard them. Well, they had been whispering at least, so maybe not, but Matt figured their luck wasn't that good. They were about to get caught – he just knew it.

The door knob was turning.

"Hide!" hissed Mello as he grabbed Matt's arm and threw them both behind the couch.

The door groaned open.

"Ryuuzaki?" whispered a voice.

Matt and Mello looked at each other. Mello raised an eyebrow in question, but Matt shook his head. He couldn't tell who it was since the person was whispering, and neither of them knew who Ryuuzaki was either.

"La – Ryuuzaki!" exclaimed the voice, louder this time. Matt jumped, recognizing the voice instantly.

Apparently, so had Mello, if the sudden straightening in his back was any indication.

"Oh, thank God," came the man's voice, softer this time, and Matt suddenly got a bad feeling when he heard the relief in that voice. He reached out to Mello, thinking at keeping the idiot out of sight before he alerted the detective to their presence, but the blonde was too fast.

"Light!" exclaimed Mello, popping up from behind the couch, Matt following after a moment's hesitation and a small, practically inaudible groan.

"Ahh!" yelled Light in surprise. He had been crouched beside "Ryuuzaki," but lost his balance and fell back with a dull thump when Mello had appeared from seemingly nowhere in the barely moonlit darkness.

"What the – Mello? Matt?" asked Light in obvious confusion.

"Yeah, it's us!" exclaimed Mello. The blonde was beside himself at meeting L or Light or whatever he wanted to call himself again, and Matt had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. However, he couldn't deny his own excitement at seeing the greatest detective in the world, and he couldn't help but feel grudgingly awed to be in the presence of someone so important, especially since that someone was fairly decent at video games.

But Light, or L, wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked downright angry.

Matt gulped.

The bad feeling was back.

* * *

When Light had given up waiting after close to forty five minutes in the cold, he hadn't expected to find the room he had briefly stayed in so quickly, and he sure hadn't expected the door to be unlocked. One thing he had expected though, however much he tried not to, was stumbling over L's dead body somewhere along the way, but he resolutely pushed those fears down as he opened the door.

He hadn't stumbled over any bloody bodies as he traipsed through the halls, so there was a good chance that he wouldn't find any bodies in this room. Right?

Light couldn't have been more upset to have that particular expectation proven false.

Or, at least, that is what he had thought at first. A quick examination proved that L was just unconcious, not dead, and Light couldn't have stopped the sigh of relief.

But when Mello and a hesistant Matt appeared from behind the sofa, it didn't take a genius like Light to put two and two together.

And Light was pissed.

"You knocked him out!" accused Light.

That wiped the smile of Mello's face. "That dickhead was stealing your stuff! We couldn't let him get away! It could have been something important, what with you being L and all! He could have been trying to steal evidence! Or something top secret that could be used to blow up Russia or something!"

Light felt his anger disappate instantly, but carefully kept his face schooled in its previous expression, letting nothing of the shock show. They thought he was L?

Light's mind worked furiously.

"Look, we're sorry. We didn't know that you knew him, and we made a mistake, but look at it from our side, we were only trying to help," tried Matt, holding his arms out imploringly.

Light stopped himself from smirking. He hadn't felt so much like Kira in all the time since that fateful day so many weeks ago when he'd realized L's identity.

He had a plan.

And damned if it wasn't a good plan.

"So you two figured it out, huh?" asked Light, his voice purposefully towing the line between anger and slight respect.

Matt and Mello shared a look.

"Yeah, we did," said Mello, his voice challenging Light.

Light let the smirk he'd been holding back blossom. "Good job. I was wondering if you would."

"You were?" asked Matt, incredulous.

"Of course," said Light smoothly. Now what had L said about coming to Whammy's? "That's the reason I'm here. I'm getting to know the top contenders for the title of L. I would be disappointed if you hadn't realized my true identity."

"But nevertheless," continued Light, "I can't say that I'm altogether pleased that you've knocked my associate unconcious."

Matt and Mello shared another look, this time with a definitely flair of guilt mixed in.

"We were just trying to protect your shit," reasoned Mello, folding his arms and glaring at Light like it was his fault that the boys had knocked out L.

Light let his eyebrow raise in amusement. "And I appreciate that, but I wished you had let my associate retrieve my things like I had sent him to do."

"Why? Are you going somewhere?" asked Matt, his voice laced with curiousity.

If Light could, he would have smiled. _Hook, line, and sinker._

"Yes, I am. It's top secret. As of now, not even Watari knows where I'm going, and I want to keep it that way for a bit," said Light, his voice stern.

"We won't tell anyone! Promise!" exclaimed Matt.

"Where are you going?" asked Mello, just as eager.

Light debilitated. He was taking a gamble here, but he couldn't think of anything that would keep the kids off his back and maybe hold off Watari for a bit longer if Watari really was a good guy. Here went nothing.

"I'll tell you, but that depends on if you can find me paper and a pen," said Light.

He had never seen two people move so fast in his life. One second, the boys are standing there, the next they are flying towards the secretarial in the corner that Light had never really noticed before.

"Here!"

"There you go!"

Light took the offered paper from Matt, and that pen from Mello, and composed a quick message on the coffee table. He folded the paper once, twice, and handed it to Mello.

Mello looked like someone had just handed a check for a million pounds.

"There's been a new development with the case I was working on – one I thought had been solved. Watari is at the hospital with Roger, and because I don't know Roger's condition, I won't take Watari away from his side until Roger is well or the funeral's been arranged. I called my associate, Ryuuzaki, to stand as Watari's temporary replacement until such a time as Watari can return to his duties. I must return to the country I was just in."

"That note –" Light pointed at the note in Mello's hand "- is for Watari's eyes only. I have no doubt that you will peak, but I ask that you show no one else. When you give it to Watari, tell him this, and only this. 'Bring scones and earl grey when you come.' He'll know what it means, and don't breathe a word extra, even if he asks. Especially not my name, nor the assumed name you've known my by, and definitely not my associate's. I don't want anyone overhearing and knowing we've had contact. Remember, he'll be looking to see if you'll divulge anything else, and then he'll report to me. Best to keep tight lipped," said Light, tapping the side of his nose for emphasis.

Matt and Mello nodded their heads in solemn agreement. "We promise we'll do exactly as you ask."

"Yeah, we won't say anything else," agreed Mello.

Light smiled. "Good. I knew I can count on you."

Now came the hard part.

"Well, since you knocked out my associate, I suppose I'll have to carry him. One of you grab that case, and then one of you grab the duffle. I'll get Ryuuzaki."

Carrying an unconcious detective was harder than Light thought it would be. L might have looked fairly light, but his dead weight was more than enough to have Light stumbling a few times down the stairs. Thankfully it seemed as if they were the only ones awake at this hour.

Light knew he wouldn't be able to drag the detective all the way back to the bus stop. He'd have to come up with something . . .

His mind flashed to the garage of headquarters. Cars. Light would bet anything that Whammy's had a decent garage somewhere.

Light paused, leaning against the wall in fatigue that wasn't entirely put on for show.

Mello and Matt stopped behind him.

"You two go on. I'll just be a bit slower. Head to the garage," said Light, sending a small prayer up to whoever the hell was nice enough to listen to him that Whammy's did have a garage.

The boys nodded, and took the lead.

Light smirked.

Looks like he hadn't lost his touch afterall.

* * *

The seedy looking motel forty minutes out of Winchester left enough to be desired, but Light honestly couldn't drive any farther. He'd almost run off the road twice in his exhaustion. The fact that the greasy looking man behind the counter took cash was an added bonus.

Light was painfully aware how much the car he'd absconced from the Whammy garage stuck out in the pot-holed parking lot behind the motel, but honestly, it had been the least flashy car in the garage. He would have thought that L would have kept Whammy's outfitted with a few undercover cars like Headquarters had been, but apparently not.

It was late enough at night that no one was around to notice him carrying L's prone body up the flight of stairs to the second floor, and Light had a time manuevering the detective and his luggage through the hotel door, let alone opening it, but Light managed, and gratefully threw the other man, albeit gently, onto the single double bed – the feature offered by the only room left available.

Light kicked off his shoes, pants, and shirt, throwing them to the floor. He was too tired to care about propriety, and besides, it was just Lawli. Wasn't like the other man hadn't seen it all before.

Checking one last time to make sure that L was alright – he'd have a nasty bump – Light flicked the lamp off and fell asleep, unconciously snuggling up to the warmth of L's body.

* * *

His head was pounding. That was the first thing he noticed as he blinked sleep from his eyes.

L groaned, trying to turn over in whatever bed he was lying in, but something wasn't letting him. His eyes widened and he stared at the water stained ceiling in confusion.

Where was he?

In a sudden rush of panic, L sat up, knocking whatever had been clingling to him onto the ground. The added elevation made L's head pound, and he winced against the pain, clutching his head and moaning low in his throat.

"Oww," groaned a voice. "Fuck, Lawli. Go back to sleep."

L lifted his head, and turned to see Light climb back into bed, his eyes lingering on the other man's chest before snapping up to meet Light's own bleary eyes.

He flushed.

"You don't have a fever, do you?" grumbled Light, squinting his eyes at L and clumsily fumbling his hand against L's cheek. L grabbed the hand, lowering it before Light could accidently cause anymore pain to his head.

"No, Light-kun," L shook his head, but immediately regretted it. He found it not a little ironic that in trying to keep Light from causing him pain, he'd caused it himself. His hands touched gingerly at the back of his head. He could feel a large, painful lump.

"What happened?" asked L. He knew he had been in Whammy's before someone had knocked him out from behind, but who had it been? Watari? Surely it hadn't been. Had it?

"Matt and Mello knocked you out," murmured Light, pulling the covers back up over both of them.

"Matt and Mello?" exclaimed L, his voice strained and not just a little confused. Matt and Mello? His heirs?

"Mmm. I'll explain later, but we're safe now. Just go back to sleep, 'kay?" said Light, his voice getting softer and softer as he went on.

L sighed, letting the issue go for now.

He settled back down, trying to find the best possible position to rest his head on the pillow that didn't immediately cause his headache to spike in pain. Finally giving up, L threw the pillow on the floor in a fit of frustration. Light watched him through heavy-hooded eyes.

"C'mere," mumbled Light, pulling L to him. "I'll be your pillow."

L stiffened in surprise. He didn't think Light would ever offer something like that if he hadn't been mostly asleep, but complied nonetheless, his head resting on Light's chest, the same one he'd been caught staring at just minutes before. He couldn't help the small blush or the soft, coiling pleasure he felt somewhere in his belly. His headache was suddenly much more bearable.

Light made a small noise of contentment in the back of his throat, clearly more asleep than awake, and threw his arm across L's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Despite his hesitancy, L found the position decidedly more comfortable that the rock hard motel pillow, and he allowed himself to close his eyes and be happy at where he was, here with Light.

Just this once.

* * *

**A/N: **Annnnd there you have if folks! So tell me what you think. SAY SOMETHING, and don't be shy now!

Until next time (which will be considerably sooner that last time), Quiet's signing off and heading to bed.


	31. Too Much Sleep

A/N:

I know, I know. It's terribly short, but I figured an update would just be appreciated all around! XD I had it written up, and I was planning on adding more, but I'm about to leave good old east tennessee and drive four and a half hours back to west tennessee for the holidays (like, in twenty minutes), and I figured, well, it's better to put it up now than wait until after the holidays with only another measely thousand or so words added.

So, here you go!

And yeahh, the quesion people kept asking? It's answered here in this one. XD

So happy holidays people! Lemme see what I can do about throwing another one up sometime this week, hmm? Much longer than this, promise!!

Also, thank you thank you thank you for all the lovely reviews! It's wonderful to know that people are still sticking with this story!

And **Nikki**! Lol, sorry I didn't mention you!! If you don't mind a short chapter, then here, here's a dedication for you!

Alright guys, ready for the next installment? And turkey day, are you ready for that?! God knows I am!!

* * *

**The Art of Drowning**

_Too Much Sleep_

* * *

His arm was draped over Light's chest, his head resting on the brunet's shoulder. Light had one arm around him, holding him close. This was how L woke up the second time, and he felt at peace. It was an odd feeling. L couldn't remember if he had ever felt it before. He must have, long ago, otherwise he wouldn't know what he was feeling now.

_In. Out. In. Out._

L counted Light's breaths – steady, deep, strong. The last time he'd been this close to Light, the man hadn't been breathing. He'd been cold, still. He'd been dead, and L had been drowning. Drowning in pain, drowing in sorrow . . .

L's hand unconciously tightened, the feel of warm flesh reassuring. The thought of losing Light, while unbearable before, was impossible now. Now that L finally had him back, he wasn't going to lose him again. His heart quickened at the thought of how close he'd come to losing his dearest friend, whether at the hands of Kira, Roger, assassins, thugs, or any others that seemed to have it out for Light.

L shuddered, and drew in a steadying breath, a small smile gracing his lips as he did so, banishing his worries at once.

It was just another thing about Light that L found so pleasing. Light _smelled_ good. It wasn't sweet, or musky, or anything silly like strawberries or flowers or even triple layer chocolate fudge delight. It was a distinctly human smell, and more importantly, it was a distinctly _Light_ smell. L closed his eyes and breathed.

L wanted to stay like this . . .

Light sighed in his sleep, his arm tightening minutely around L.

. . . for as long as he possibly could.

* * *

L must have fallen asleep again, because the next time he awoke, he was alone in bed - the room dark and the curtains drawn. The only light came from the muted television showing the local news. L's eyes flickered across the room, looking for Light.

But Light wasn't in the room.

He sat bolt upright, "Light?!"

No answer.

L threw the covers off and rolled himself out of bed. "Light?!"

His breathing was coming in shallow gasps now. He was starting to panic, wasn't he? It was a strange feeling – one he'd never gotten used to. It sort of hurt.

He checked the bathroom – no luck. The room was small, but Light wouldn't be hiding anyways. L threw the covers back on to the bed, checking underneath just to make sure, no matter how irrational the act was. He found one of his ratty sneakers instead. He grabbed it, hopping on one foot while putting it on and looking for the other.

He would have to track Light down. Someone must have kidnapped him. Light wouldn't have left without L, so the only logical conclusion was that Light had been forced to leave against his will. L felt himself seize in terror, his mind flashing through hundreds of crime scene photos – victims decapitated, mutilated – they all wore Light's face now, every single one of them.

"Goddamnit, where's my shoe?!" he wailed, and he ignored the pricking of tears behind his eyes. If he was going to save Light, then he had to keep it together. He swallowed hard.

There – his shoe was by the door!

He bent down to put it on, just as the door opened, slamming him in the head and causing him to fall uncermoniously onto his back.

"What the hell?! What's in front of the door?" demanded the one person L was desperate to see. L felt a rush of relief, so powerful that he his breath caught. Light was alive. He was fine. He was safe.

_Thank God._

L exhaled noiselessly.

Light peaked around the half open door, his eyes immediately zeroing in on L's prone form. "L? What are you doing? Why the hell were you sitting infront of the door?"

L groaned. "Light-kun doesn't need to disappear without first letting me know where he's disappearing to, or more preferably, taking me along with him."

He heard Light snort, and the overhead light was flipped on. "You barely sleep. I wasn't going to wake you. Besides, didn't you see the note?"

L's eyes snapped open from where he had closed them in pain. There had been a note? "What note?"

"The one I left on the table," said Light, pointing to the small round table in infront of the window, barely big enough for the two chairs shoved underneath. L squinted. Yes, there was paper on the table.

"Hmm."

L caught Light rolling his eyes. "And they call you the greatest detective in the world," mumbled Light, sliding the chain home on their hotel room door.

L bristled, and he suddenly forgot why he had been in near hysterics for the jerk in the first place. Too much sleep – that was it. When Light didn't have enough sleep, he was snarky and emotional. Same went for L, but only if he got too _much_ sleep.

Light held out his hand, but L glared at it.

Light withdrew his hand. "Fine. Be that way then. I don't care if you lay there like a turtle on its back. I wasn't the one hiding behind the door."

L huffed, clambering to his feet on his own. If he thought his head had been hurting earlier, having it slammed into a door had really made it hurt.

"Stop being stubborn. Look, I brought some ice. I'll go get a towel, and we'll wrap some up and put it on your head, okay? Should have done that earlier, but I figure it wouldn't hurt to put it on there now," said Light, showing L the bucket of ice.

"What's in the bag?" asked L. It was apparent that Light hadn't just gone to get ice.

"Cupcakes. They were on sale. I picked me up some food too," said Light, setting down his load on the small table.

L's head snapped up. "Cupcakes?"

"Yeah, strawberry with white frosting. I thought you might like it," shrugged Light, grabbing the bucket and taking it into the bathroom.

L dug through the bag, pulling out chips and string cheese, and finally a six count container of cupcakes. Only six? Light should have gotten two of these. He wrestled the plastic container open, satisfied when the plastic groaned and gave way. They smelled delicious, and L's stomach growled. It had been entirely too long since he'd eaten something.

The note on the table caught his attention. Bloody note. L shook his head. He really needed to adjust his sleep patterns back to normal. The note should have been one of the first things he'd noticed after Light's absence was confirmed. He licked the icing, and studied the short missive.

_Ryuuzaki -_

_Gone to the store, be back in a bit._

_- Light_

Straight and to the point, and Light had had the foresight not to use his real name, but really, L expected nothing less. He sighed, setting down his cupcake as his hunger suddenly left him. He mulled over the last fifteen minutes of his behavior. L had been scared, and more importantly, he had let himself be ruled my his emotions, which in turn lead to a decrease in his abilities. That was one thing, as a detective, that L could not afford.

But L wasn't a detective where Light was concerned, and he doubt he'd ever been or would ever be.

Or maybe it really _was _just too much sleep. L nodded to himself, resolutely shoving the cupcake back into his mouth. That's what it was. Too much sleep. He'd have to rectify that.

The bathroom light flicked off, drawing L's eyes to man emerging from the small room.

"Here," said Light, holding out a small bundle of ice wrapped tight in a towel. "Do you think you can manage it?" smirked the brunet.

L regarded Light – he was being prissy again – with a small smile. "Of course, Light-kun. Thank you for caring about me."

There. That ought to do it.

"Uh, well, of course I care about you, idiot! I'm going to go grab a quick shower, okay?" said Light, his eyes refusing to meet L's.

Yes, that did it.

"Sure, Light-kun. I think I'll have one after you."

* * *

Light winced as the water hit his face, causing his nose and cut to sting. He'd have to dig out the anti-septic cream from his duffle bag. Light looked down at his finger tips. They looked a lot better than they had. It didn't look like trying to claw his way out of a casket would leave any scars – visible, at least.

He exhaled, slowly, trying to expell all the anxiety he'd been carrying. With everything happening so fast, Light barely had time to sleep, let alone deal properly with the roller coaster his life had been lately.

But now he had L with him. L – Light paused, the man's smile flashing across his mind – Lawli.

He vaguely remembered some embarrassing mumbles on his part that ended with L in his arms, but still, Light had been surprised to see what he had been steadfastly clinging to when he awoke this evening, and even more surprised that L was clinging to him just as much.

Light threw his head back, hitting it against the shower wall with a bang.

It didn't mean anything, damn it. It was just an honest mistake. It could never be anything more than -

"Light-kun? Are you okay?" called L from behind the door.

Light blinked, coming back to himself. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I heard a bang," replied L.

"I -" Light paused. "I hit my head – on the shower wall."

Silence, then, "How did Light-kun manage to hit his head on the shower wall if it was not done so purposefully?"

Stupid fucking _observant_ Lawli.

"I was bending over to get the soap, asshole!" yelled Light.

More silence.

Light scrunched his nose.

"Was Light-kun never informed of the dangers of soap dropping in showers?"

"Fuck you, L! Go eat your cupcakes!" yelled Light.

"A marvelous idea, Light-kun," agreed L, and Light could practically hear the man smiling.

Light squeezed out the shampoo with perhaps too much force than was completely necessary, all the while picturing a certain detective's head. He scrubbed his head a little too hard, but he caught himself, rinsing out the suds gently. It was no use to take out his frustrations on his hair, after all. Who knew what kind of damage his hair follicles might be afflicted with from his intense, frustration fuelled scrubbing?

Light drew in a breath through his nose. No one had ever been able to get under his skin quite like L Lawliet. Well, except maybe Ryuk, but that didn't count. Ryuk wasn't even human.

_Ryuk . . ._

Light froze.

Where _the fuck_ was Ryuk?

Light slammed the water off, and threw open the shower curtain, he stumbled, his foot catching the side of the tub, and he fell down onto the tile, his elbow smacking painfully. If Light hadn't been so panicked, he would have reshowered. Who knew what kind of bacteria was making its home on the nasty motel floor? But all Light could think about was Ryuk, the Death Note, and how glad he was that he'd had the foresight to bring his duffle bag into the bathroom with him.

He ripped the zipper open.

A knock came at the door. "Light? Did you drop the soap again?" L sounded amused, but Light ignored him.

"Where is it? Where is it?" he asked himself, voice quiet, tossing clothing out of the duffle left and right.

"Light-kun?"

He reached the bottom, hell, he even turned it upside down and _shook_. Nothing. Oh, God, it wasn't there. The Death Note was _missing_. It was _fucking missing_!

"Light-kun? Answer me!"

Light stumbled back from the duffle, looking around on the floor, pawing through the clothes, but no, it wasn't wrapped in a shirt. It just wasn't there!

"Light-kun, I'm coming in!"

That one got his attention. His head snapped to the door.

"N-No, I'm fine," called Light, hoping his voice hadn't shaken too much. He wasn't sure.

" . . . Are you sure?"

Light almost laughed, but he knew he'd sound mad if he did. No, he bloody well wasn't sure about anything at this point.

"Yes, I'll be out in a minute," said Light, this time his voice was much steadier, and he hoped L would buy it and leave him alone.

He heard L move away from the door, and Light sat down bonelessly on the edge of the tub, staring at his empty duffle, and the pile of clothes littering the floor.

Fuck.

When was the last time he'd even seen Ryuk? Light racked his brain. Four? Five days ago? A week? How long ago was it that he had been at Greg's? Ryuk had definitely been at Greg's. Had he been at the train station? Yes, he'd been bothering Light about apples.

The train station. Light had slept at the train station. Only about two hours, but that was more than enough time for someone to have stolen the notebook! Light felt like hitting himself. How could he have been so stupid?

But then he had another thought.

Maybe it had made it to Whammy's House? It wasn't uncommon for Ryuk to disappear now and then, but never for this long, so Light wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact time he'd lost the notebook, but it was either at the train – No. He'd been at that motel in Winchester too, and he'd been at Tanks . . .

What if Tank had it?

Perfect. Leave a killer notebook at an assassin's house. Light let his head drop into his hands. Didn't he have enough on his plate without having to worry about this too? Couldn't something in his life go _right_? Just for once? Would Light have to worry about another Kira now? And, fuck, he hadn't ever mentioned that he had the Death Note to L. How was _that_ going to look to the detective? Not good. Not good at all. What was he going to do?

He just didn't know. He didn't fucking know.

* * *

L stared thoughtfully down at his last cupcake. Light really should have gotten more than one package of them. He glanced at the bathroom door. The shower had been off for at least ten minutes. He wondered what was taking Light so long.

Then L snorted to himself. When hadn't Light taken more than enough time in the bathroom?

With nothing better to do, he searched for his laptop, finding it underneath the small table. He might as well plan their next step while Light made himself look presentable, or as presentable as he could with that nose.

L smiled. Even when Light was beat up and bruised, he was still cute.

He blinked, then shook his head.

Too much sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Alright then folks! There you have it! All your questions about Ryuk's disappearence answered! Kinda. Well, at least we know Ryuk's disappearence isn't an oversight by the author anymore, eh? Been waiting to spring that one on everybody! XD

Okay now. Do you know what time it is? Uh huh. It's review time! So say a little something, let me know, and I'll try and get a new chapter up this week, kay?


	32. Place Holder

It never occured to me that people wouldn't be able to review chapter 32 because of my gd authors note. Sooo, just ignore this and go to the next one!


	33. Plans and Surprises

**A/N: **Wow. It's been awhile, huh? Thanks for all the amazing reviews! OMG OVER 2,000! ARGH! AMAZING! They inspired me to pick this back up once I took a gander at them. Things have been really hard in the real world for this author. I'm currently homeless (thank you my bitch aunt), crashing on friends couches, trying to work, trying to finish this semester, trying to find a place/roommate, and trying to find somewhere with an internet connection (woohoo go public libraries!) I find that when I'm down in the dumps and my life is shit, I tend to turn to writing as a sort of therapy, so here's to hoping my life gets better! (for me!) and here's to hoping it stays shit (for you!).

Ha.

Anyway, I hope ya'll like the next installment. Keep in mind I have no beta. I tend to lose those, so forgive my mistakes! It's my free day today, so I took the time to reread the story, go over my old notes, write new ones, and hunker down to write this chapter. :) Considering I'm homeless, expect many many more updates very soon. :')

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**The Art of Drowning**

_Plans and Surprises_

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"And you've put it on the bed, you say?"

"Yes. It's as plain as day. He shouldn't miss it."

"Good," said Roger, sighing in relief. It was a stupid plan, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice, not to mention the extra complication of being as incapacitated as he currently was. Roger glared ruefully at the tubes in his arm.

"Thank you, my friend. I shall be in contact with you soon," said Roger, once it was apparent that the other man had nothing else to add. He ended his call and sat back further into the starched white hospital pillows.

Who would have the resources or the intel to kidnap L straight from Whammy's? Nobody Roger was aware of, and hopefully nobody that Quillish would know of either, but either way, the ransom note would have to do.

His next step was to procure L's dental records. He had a body to plant, and the only thing he wanted recognizable was the teeth.

His mind drifted off to the issue of who would take the place of L. Near, as of now, was the only canidate that Roger would even consider. He nodded to himself. Yes, Near would have to do. It would take another few months – maybe even close to a year - before the new detective L would be as fully operational as the original, but at least the difficult stage had already been passed. L had already gained the trust of all the world's leading nations, and with that trust, the power to influence and ultimately control them.

Roger chuckled softly to himself.

"I'm glad you're finding your humor again, old boy!" announced Quillish upon entering the hospital room. The man had two coffees in his hand.

Roger surpressed his agitation at the old coot's intrusion. "I was thinking about a good joke I heard the other day from one of the children."

Quillish smiled. "Ah, laughter is truly the panacea for all of life's troubles."

"Indeed," agreed Roger, taking the offered coffee.

"So, how are you feeling this morning, my friend?" asked Quillish, blowing into his cup, mustache twitching.

Roger refrained from sneering in disgust. He hated Quillish's damn mustasche. It was always twitching. Whether from ill concealed good spirits, nerves, or anger, the man's infernal mustasche would never stay still.

"As well as can be expected. I'm looking forward to returning home," said Roger. He scowled to himself as the realization that Whammy was probably going to be around the orphanage a lot more now that L was dead. Ah, well, all for the greater good. Roger supposed he could suffer the man's company for a few months. Long enough to get Near trained. After that, he'd have a better idea on the other man's usefullness. He smiled at the thought of finally being able to kill the old bastard.

"Ah, yes, as am I. L hasn't contacted me yet. I must admit to being worried about him. He's been . . . down in the dumps, you could say, and I didn't part with us on the best of terms," admitted Quillish, his mustasche once again twitching. With worry, no doubt. Roger wondered if he could perhaps pay one of the children to shave it off in the man's sleep. He shook the ridiculous thought away immediately.

"What in heavens name did you do to upset him?" asked Roger, morbidly curious as to why the famous detective and his most trusted confidant were at sorts.

"I drugged him," sighed Quillish.

Roger's brow furrowed. "Drugged him?"

Quillish nodded. "Yes, I do it every once in a while. He doesn't sleep. You know that, and it has been an inordinately long time since he has partaken in anything but an hour of rest, at most, within the past month or so."

"Ah," said Roger in understanding. No wonder that flea bitten second rate assassin had been able to kill L – who was fully able and trained to easily incapacitate someone of the assassin's skill. L had been drugged. Roger caught himself before he could laugh. Quillish had inadvertantly murdered his ward. He would make a special point of telling the old dodger that before Roger killed him.

Wait, this played in perfectly with the fake ransom note. Quillish would come to the conclusion that if he hadn't of drugged L, then L would have been able to fight off his kidnappers. The old man would be beside himself, wallowing in guilt. Roger's mood was suddenly elevated beyond anything he'd felt since coming to this damned hospital.

It was then that the doctor entered.

"And how are you feeling this morning, Mr. Ruvie?" asked Dr. Langley, looking through his chart at the foot of his bed.

"Much better than I was," said Roger, smiling sweetly at the shapely young doctor. Yes, his mood was much better, and it was getting even more better with every glance at Dr. Langley slithe form.

"Good, good," she murmured, her head bent over the chart.

"Do you know when he'll be able to leave?" asked Quillish.

The doctor looked up. "I want to keep him one more night for observation." The pretty blonde doctor then addressed Roger. "We should have you out in the morning if everything goes well."

Roger smiled genially. "That sounds wonderful, my dear. I must say, I'm not one to enjoy hospital stays, but this go around has been much more pleasurable. I can only assume it's because I have been left in your very capable hands."

Doctor Langley smiled. "Well thank you for the compliment, Mr. Ruvie." She turned to look at Quillish. "My, my, he's a charmer."

"Yes, the dear fellow is rather charming, isn't he? Must be the pain medication," laughed Quillish.

The doctor laughed. "You two make a sweet couple. Just let the nurse know if you need anything." She shut the door behind her as she left.

Quillish blinked. "Did she just imply that we -"

"Yes, Quillish. She's obviously daft. Just ignore her," gritted out Roger, his good mood abruptly ruined with the assumptions of some air headed doctor. Where the devil did that woman get off implying that he was a shirt lifter? With Quillish Whammy, no less?

The youth of today. What a waste.

* * *

Light sat across from L at the small table infront of the window. The detective had his laptop out and was currently pecking the keys with lightning speed – ensuring that everything he did financially and otherwise would not come to the attention of Roger or Watari. He had been contacting all of the world leaders, governmental agencies, banks, and underground contacts he had accumulated over the years for the past three hours, changing passwords and key phrases that would identify him to those authorities, explaining to some about a hacker that had breached his security, others he told that his identity had been compromised and he was going underground until it was taken care of, some of an extended holiday or a case that involved his full attention, and all he warned of a man who may contact them pretending to be the real L or Watari.

Light, meanwhile, was busy studying the well worn piece of paper he had found in the small draw string black bag that Greg had shoved into his hands the night his uncle and that other man had killed those three men. Greg was right, it was a bunch of numbers. Some sort of code, and it was taking Light more time than he thought necessary to break. Whoever had come up with it – most assuredly one of his parents – had known their way around a code.

He glanced up from the paper. L's face was bathed in the soft glow of his computer screen. His eyes moved frantically back and forth – reading something, no doubt. The chicken pecking started up again soon after.

Light sighed, leaning back into his chair. He glanced at the heavily curtained window of their motel room. He wouldn't have even been able to tell it was daytime if he didn't see the crack of light where the curtains met. He'd have to go get more food for tonight. Light shot L an assessing look, trying to weigh the chances of getting the man away from his laptop and to the small diner he had seen earlier when he had gone and gotten snacks. With that look on L's face? Slim to none and slim left town.

More snacks from the gas station down the road, then.

Light stood up from the table, barely giving the sheet of numbered paper another glance, and flopped onto the bed. Really, the room was so small that Light didn't have to step to the bed. Just stand up and fall in it's direction.

"Is Light-kun tired?" asked L, never taking his eyes off the computer.

Light cut his eyes, but didn't move his head. "You could say that."

"Perhaps if Light-kun hadn't expended so much energy in the bathroom this morning, he wouldn't be so tired," said L – airily, if that was even possible.

Light's eye twitched. "Are you still mad about that?"

"I'm not the least bit angry that Light-kun decided to hole himself up in the bathroom for an hour after he was done showering. Merely curious."

"Annoyed because I wouldn't come out, more like, but I told you I was attending to some hygenic needs that I didn't want you to be privy to. I can't stand for people to watch me cut my toenails," said Light, not all together lying. He had clipped his toe nails, after all. It just a hadn't taken forty minutes. No, that forty minutes had been dedicated to silently freaking the fuck out over losing the Death Note. The last twenty had been for his nails.

"I wasn't aware that "clipping my toenails" was the new slang for masturbation, Light-kun," said L.

Light sat up abruptly, his jaw slackened in righteous indignation. "I wasn't masturbating! Is that what you think I was doing?"

"Hmm," replied L.

"Argh!" Light threw a pillow over his head, partly in frustration, partly to hide his blush, and mostly to suffocate himself.

"I can only assume by your reaction that I am correct," continued L.

Fuck suffocating himself. He'd suffocate Lawli.

Light threw the pillow off his face. "I wasn't masturbating. I was clipping my toenails. And cleaning out my ears. And there was a blackhead on my shoulder that I took care of, an ingrown hair on my upper thigh, and I even clipped my nose hair, if you must know."

L's typing paused. "You clip your nose hair?"

Light's eyes narrowed in anger. Well, it was better than L thinking that Light had been masturbating. That was embarrassing on so many more levels than clipping his nose hair.

"If someone hadn't of kicked me in the nose, maybe it wouldn't have taken as long as it did. It's hard to manuever around swollen and bruised," said Light pointedly.

"Hmm," said L. It was obviously one of the detective's favorite things to say. It could imply a number of things, and it was hard to argue against without digging yourself a deeper hole. So Light left it alone and turned the telly on, flipping through the channels trying to find the news station. He supposed there was no better place to look to see if people were mysteriously dropping dead around England.

His thoughts turned morose.

How would he ever tell L? After all that they had been through? Surely L would believe that Light kept the Death Note on him because he was planning to become Kira once again. Not that he was, but the detective was so suspicious, and L had a bad habit of jumping to the wrong conclusions. He didn't want to lose this new trust and understanding that had formed between them in the wake of Light revealing his true identity. He didn't want to lose Lawli, not for anything. So how was he going to bring it up?

His eyes sought the other man, still working with a diligence Light was well familiar with, and he felt his eyes prick. He blinked rapidly. Why was he always so goddamn emotional? Ever since he'd found out Lawli was L (and alive), his emotions had been haywire. Ugh, L was right. He was like a menopausal woman. Light thought back to the psychology classes he had attended once upon a time. Obviously, there was something subconcious going on – or something. Probably never properly dealt with the grief of losing his friend the first time around. An angry little boy tearing through police files flashed through his mind. Nope. Didn't deal with that well, and now all that bullshit's been dug back up, even if Lawli is safe and sound not three feet away. And surely the guilt of being subjected to Kira's – his alternate ego for all intents and purposes – deadly machinations wasn't exaclty healthy, per se, for his emotional health. And now he had to figure out how to tell L that he'd up and lost the bloody Death Note.

L hissed in anger at his computer before the typing picked up speed, if that was even possible.

Light's gut twisted. Well, maybe Light _wouldn't_ tell him. For now, at least. Yeah, now was not a good time if the look on L's face was anything to go by.

"I've booked a flight to Japan for next week," said L, sounding sullen.

"Good. I'm looking forward to getting back to Japan. I sort of miss headquarters," admitted Light, shooting L sideways glances.

"I can't say the same, but it is truthfully the safest place for us to be, and you already wrote Watari that blasted note," said L, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"It was the only thing I could think of," said Light, turning his head to look at L. The detective's fists were clenched, and the skin around his eyes were tightened.

"I would rather avoid Watari all together, but if there is a chance that he is not in league with Roger, then I would prefer him by my side. I'm just not looking forward to the interrogation," said L.

"Well, at least he'll bring tea and scones," said Light, hoping to cheer the detective up.

L stiffened. "What?"

"Erm," Light hesitated, when L turned his full, unblinking gaze onto him, "I told the boys to tell him to bring tea and scones? So he'd know it was really you? Because you tell him that a lot?"

L slammed his laptop shut. "You told him to come armed to the teeth and prepared to kill."

"I – what? I did?"

"Tea and scones is a code phrase between Watari and myself. It means for him to come armed and prepared to kill if need be."

Light blinked. "So all those times that you were telling him -"

"Yes."

There was a pregnant pause.

"So you're telling me that he was ready to kill people practically _all_ the time?"

"Yes, Light-kun," sighed L, seemingly letting go of his frustrations and climbing over Light's body to the other side of the bed. The close contact, however brief, made Light blush, and horribly inappropriate thoughts pushed themselves to the forefront of his brain. Ugh, maybe he did need to go spend an hour or so in the bathroom again - this time for completely different reasons.

"Oh. Well, at least he won't have any doubts," said Light, his eyes once again riveted to the television screen. He prayed his blush wasn't noticed.

"Most probably not."

"So why are you so upset?" asked Light, feeling his face cool as he turned the conversation to L's feelings.

"Besides Watari? I have to take public air transportation. I hate it, and I want my plane back," grumbled L.

Light laughed softly. "You're spoiled."

"Too right," agreed L.

They sat in silence for over an hour, each lost in their own thoughts, and none of them paying attention to the telly. Eventually, Light fell asleep.

* * *

L stared unblinkingly at the sleeping form of Light. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his eyes would move behind its lids, indicating a dream, and he would sigh softly from time to time.

L gently traced the edges of Light's eyes. He loved Light's eyes. No matter how schooled the man's face was, his eyes spoke volumes.

Soon hunger found L, and he rustled through the grocery bag Light had brought in that morning. He was surprised to see a candy bar he had missed earlier. He grinned. What a nice surprise. He was expecting to be disappointed. His eyes lifted to the sleeping figure on the bed. Light had a tendancy to _not_ disappoint L. Always had.

_Always had . . . _

L pulled the wrapper, taking a bite of his chocolate bar.

Light Layfield and Yagami Raito and Kira - the three people who made him feel more than he ever had in his life. They were one and the same – all of them taking the form of the beautiful man sleeping now. Not surprising. It would have been surprising, though, if there really were that many people out there that could get under L's skin. L smiled. Light had a way of getting under his skin, and L wouldn't have it any other way. It was like L normally existed in a muted world, and when Light was there, everything was sharp, vivid and clear, and he _felt_ so much more. He chuckled at the thought. Light brought the proverbial light to his world.

L took another bite of his chocolate bar, sitting down at his laptop once more. As he waited for it to boot, his eyes found the paper Light had been stressing over all day. He picked it up with two fingers, narrowing his eyes at the sequence of numbers. He tucked the paper into his pocket, planning on bringing it out later and looking over it himself. He sat and tried to do something useful on his computer, but his eyes inevitably found their way back to the man on the bed and so did his thoughts.

Light was more than a brother, more than a friend, more than a rival, more than suspect, more than an obsession, more than anything L could put into words, and if it had been anyone else other than Light, L would have been scared of the depth of his feelings, but it had never been anyone other than Light.

It had aways been Light . . . and it always would be.

* * *

The next morning found Light rubbing grit from his eyes. This was the first sign that today was going to be an all around bad day.

The second sign was that there was absolutely _no_ sign of L anywhere in the room – not the detective, not his bag, not his laptop.

And the third sign that today was going to be an all around bad day was when Tank opened the door to his motel room carrying coffee and whistling Dixie.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh, God, there goes Quiet again with the cliffhangers. Somebody stop her! Cackle cackle cackle! Go ahead a say something if ya want.


	34. On the Run Again

**A/N: **Hahaha, wow. Two chaps in two days. Fantastic! Thanks for all your awesome reviews and support! Ya'll rock!

* * *

_On the Run Again_

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As Light sat up blinking bleary eyes, he couldn't help but think – just how many times was this guy going to show up at his motel room? At least this time the assassin brought coffee instead of a baseball bat, but still. The situation was too surreal. Well, no, it passed surreal a long time ago. Now it was just nerve-wracking.

And where was L?

A sinking feeling made itself known in the pit of Light's stomach.

_Three billion dollars . . . _

Fuck.

"Mornin' Asian guy! You want some coffee?" asked Tank, waving a cup towards Light.

"Uh, no, not right now, thanks. Where's Ryuuzaki?" asked Light, his eyes darting around the room. Yes, all of L's things were missing. Although, Light's duffle bag still sat on the low dresser next to the TV. He could feel it – the panic – licking at the edges of his mind, but he kept it at bay. He needed his head about him.

"Ruuu -? Ohhhh! You mean Spike? Uhhhhh, damn, Asian guy, I hate to break it to ya, but dude took off reaaaal early this morning. Just threw his shit in that nice ass car and dipped. I, uhh, hope it wasn't one of those one night stand kind of things. Awkward as hell. I've had my fair share of those, let me tell ya. Remember that one time I told you I tried college? Yeah, totally did the walk of shame. I still had whipped cream and crap all over me. But, not like, real crap or anything. That's more Greg's sty- . . .Umm, yeah. Sorry, I get chatty when I'm nervous. My mother always told me it would get me in trouble one day," shrugged Tank, who had set the coffee on the table and made himself at home sitting in one of the small chairs.

"Right," said Light, his mind still stuck on the notion of L leaving him now, of all times. Something wasn't right, and his suspicions about Tank, planted by L, began rising ever higher as each second L wasn't there ticked by. Lawli wouldn't leave him. He just _wouldn't_.

"So why are you here?" asked Light, and then, once he had caught on to what Tank said, added, "And what the hell are _you_ nervous about?"

Tank? Nervous? The thought did little to keep him calm, and Light had to take a small breath to focus himself. His mind was being pulled a hundred diferent ways, and they all led to the conclusion that L was in trouble – _had _to be in trouble - because L would never just leave. And if L was in trouble, then Light had to save him. Simple as that. Now he just needed to figure out how, and the first step to that was to keep Tank talking. He needed to know what was going on.

Tank sighed, bringing Light back from his thoughts. Tank, crossing his arms behind his head, looked up at the ceiling.

"Okay, well, first I thought that Spike kidnapped you, and I was all pissed off. But I kept remembering how close you two were, and I was like, nahh, Spike wouldn't hurt the Asian guy. So I figured I'd just check in on you two and make sure everything was gravy. But then I got a call from my real boss, and she said I had to bring you in for questioning – still don't know how she knew I knew you. Maybe she doesnt? Oh well, anyway, she said if anyone got in the way, I should get rid of 'em. And I thought that was kinda shitty, you know? I mean, damn, the only one who'd get in the way is Spike, and he's like your bff. That would be a totally fucked up thing for me to do to the guy who saved my life. So I figured I'd just, you know, knock the little man out or something, but then I get here and dude's, like, _right_ in the middle of getting the hell outta dodge, so yeah, makes my job easier. Now I just gotta bring you to my boss, and _that_ makes me nervous, because she's not as nice as I am – she's a bitch – and I _like_ you! She does shitty things to people to make them talk! Not cool when it comes to my friends."

Light took a moment to let everything Tank just said sink in. It was hard to keep up with the man while he talked without pause or breath. He frowned.

There was no way in hell he was going to go with Tank. Not with L missing. Not when Tank had proven himself to have ulterior motives than merely being his friend. Real boss? What the hell was that all about? Who was this guy?

"Why were you ordered to bring me in for questioning? And by who? Who's your real boss? And what makes you think I'd go with you?" asked Light, his eyes flashing to the door, calculating the chances of making it out without Tank catching him. He took another look at Tank's bulky frame. Yep, wasn't looking too good for the home team. Damn it. Maybe he could knock the assassin out?

Tank hesitated, obviously searching for words.

Light groaned internally, once again sweeping his eyes up and down Tank's bulky frame and calculating the chances of Light getting past him. There was no way in hell he was going to get out of this one, was there? Not unless some miracle happened, and with his track record, he seriously doubted there was any miracle forth coming.

Tank sighed. "Man, fuck all this secrecy shit. Okay, look, I'm really part of the British secret service -"

"MI-5?" interrupted Light, his eyes widening. What the fuck? What did MI-5 want with him? And Tank was really a government agent? What?

"Yeah! How did you know? I thought you were foreign – oh, wait, your parents were in the service. Duh. I forgot about that."

"How do you know about my parents?" asked Light, suspicions rising even further. What the hell was going on here?

"Dude! One question at a time! Asian people are so curious! Geez! I know because Greg's my best friend, and because MI-5's been looking for Light Layfield for a loooong time. I just didn't put two and two together until my boss told me to bring you in, which was stupid of me. It's not like your name is John Smith or something. I don't know, man, apparently you have access to some shit that could possible blow up the world or something if evil people get it. Like I said, I don't know, I just do the grunt work and spy on old dick face, who's apparently the evil guy the blow up thingie was stolen from. Wait, that didn't sound right. But, well, I wouldn't put it past the nasty old geezer to have a blow up thingie hidden in his closet, but, ugh, I'll stop. Bad mental images."

Light's head spun, and he leaned forward, staring at Tank intently.

"Are you saying that you're an undercover MI-5 agent spying on Roger? And your boss thinks I have access to some sort of weapon that was stolen from Roger that could blow up the earth? So she wants you to bring me in to see if I know where the weapon is?" asked Light, trying to make sense of what Tank was saying, his confusion mounting.

Tank grinned. "Yeah! That sums it up in a nutshell! I knew you'd get what I'm saying! You're Asian!"

"But I don't know about any fucking weapon! I just want to go home!" yelled Light, his anger finally getting the best of him. However, his accidental admission shocked him into the realization that all he really wanted to do _was_ go home. He didn't care about spies, or weapons, or Roger, or Death Notes, or his dead parents – he just wanted to go home. But first he had to find Lawli, because Light could never go home without L. There wouldn't be any point. The other man was his home.

Tank raised his hands, looking guilty. "Woah, Asian guy! Don't shoot the messenger! I'm just telling you what's up! I mean, I don't know that you've got some crazy ass weapon _exactly_. I'm just guessing because she made it sound like serious business, and weapons that'll blow up the earth are serious business."

"So what exactly am I supposed to have that she wants?" growled Light, clenching his fist.

Tank shrugged. "Something that was stolen from old dick face?"

"I don't have anything that was stolen from Roger. Everything I have is in that duffle bag by the TV. You're more than welcome to look through it," said Light, gesturing towards his duffle.

"Damn I'm not good at this. I usually just go in and knock people out. I'm shit at trying to explain things. Look, man, I'm liking this about as much as you are. Hell, you're practically family considering your Greg's nephew, but orders are orders, and I've been in enough trouble with that bitch that I can't afford to get into any more," said Tank, a sad look on his face.

"So that's it, then? You're just going to drag me to your boss to be, and I can only surmise from your ealier words, _tortured_ for information on something that I don't even know about?" asked Light.

Tank looked pained. "Asian guy -"

"I don't make friends easily, Tank. I honestly felt like I had made one the day I met you. Obviously, I was wrong," said Light, looking away from the other man. Maybe if he got Tank to feel bad enough he'd let him go. Light had to stop himself from snorting. Ha. Like that would happen. He was so fucked.

"Ahhh, shit," said Tank, standing up abruptly and pulling out a gun.

Light threw himself over the side of the bed, his heart in his throat. Shit! Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Light squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bare to look at Tank pointing a fucking gun at him. He _hated _guns, and now it looked like -

_BANG!_

Light flinched hard at the sound, and it took him a second to realize that the pained whimper wasn't coming from him, as he would have expected, but from someone on the other side of the room. Light peeked over the edge of the bed, his eyes widening in shock.

"Tank! What the hell did you just do?" yelled Light, stumbling to his feet and to the groaning man on the floor.

"Here," said Tank, shoving a blood covered gun into Light's hands. Light barely kept himself from dropping it.

"Tank -"

"I'll be f-fine, A-asian guy. It's just a . . . shoulder wound. Take the gun, and r-run. Get out of the country if you c-can. I'll tell that bitch that -" cough "-you shot me and g-got away."

"No one would believe that! And I just can't just leave you here!" shouted Light, at a loss.

"Yes you can! B-b-but, we're e-even now, 'kay A-asain guy? D-don't let me find you again. Take my c-car! Go! R-run, Asian guy! They'll be here any m-minute! Go!" coughed Tank, pointing at the door.

Light grabbed his duffle bag, and ran, taking one more horrified look at the man bleeding on the floor. He practically fell down the stairs to the ground floor, and it was only when he'd scrapped his toe on the rough concrete of the stairs did he realize he had forgotten his shoes, but it was only a passing thought and not important What mattered now was getting the hell out of there before whoever Tank mentioned was on the way arrived.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on Tank's car, having recognized it from when he first rode in it with L, and he was beyond relieved to find the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition. He threw his duffle bag into the backseat and slammed the car door. He turned the key, half expecting the car to sputter, but it started just fine, and Light wasted no time in pealing out of the motel parking lot.

* * *

Blueberries were God's gift to mankind. This loaded theory was confirmed somewhere around the second or third blueberry muffin that he'd eaten.

He flicked the windshield wipers on once it became hard to see out.

It was drizzling, but this was England. It was always either drizzling or all out pouring, but L paid no mind. He only thought about how nice it was to have this fifth – warm! - blueberry muffin in his hand. His toes wiggled appreciately against the peddle, making the car jump. He blinked, scolding himself for not paying enough attention to the road.

He hoped Light liked the chips he'd picked out for him. Who knew the grocery store had so many different kinds of barbeque chips to choose from?

As L pulled onto the street where the motel was, he narrowly avoided being side swiped by some lunatic that looked suspiciously like – wait. Was that?

The car that had almost slammed into him screeched to a stop, and L found himself stopping his car too.

Surely it wasn't -

He was so shocked when Light jumped out of the other car that the blueberry muffin he had been eating fell from his slack jawed mouth.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" screamed Light, as he ran to L's car, leaving the vehicle he had been driving running, car door wide open, in the middle of the road.

The brunet jerked on the door handle repeatedly.

"Goddamnit, Lawli! Open the fucking car!"

L, not needing to be told twice, pressed the unlock button. Light threw the door open, tossing his duffle into the back, and himself into the passenger's seat.

"Light? What -" started L, his eyes widening in concern once he realized that Light was covered in blood.

"Just drive! Get us the fuck out of here!" yelled Light.

L didn't need to be told twice, throwing the car into reverse, and screeching it around in the opposite direction of the motel.

"What happened to you? Are you alright? Do you require medical attention?" asked L, trying to study the blood covered Light and the road at the same time.

"Never mind what happened to me! What happened to you? Why the hell would you pack up your shit and leave me?"

"Did you not see the note?" asked L, confused, and still more than a little concerned at the amount of blood that was covering his friend.

"Wha- note?"

"Is that you're blood?"

"No! I didn't see a -"

"I left it on the bathroom counter."

"Why the hell would you leave it on the bathroom counter?"

"Because that's where Light-kun usually goes first thing in the morning. And he's stays there for quite some time, _grooming_ himself. I figured it would be a safe bet," said L, giving Light a pointed look.

Light's mouth twitched, and L could tell that the other man was holding himself back from punching him. Good. Wouldn't go over well while L was trying to navigate the sudden, heavy traffic he'd found himself in.

"Where the hell -" started Light, sounding more than agitated.

"I went to pick up breakfast," said L, holding up a grocery bag filled with pasteries. "And I went ahead and packed the car. I knew by the time I returned, we would need to check out."

L pointed to the clock on the dashboard. "See? It's almost 10. That's when we needed to check out."

Light sighed explosively. "Goddamnit, L. What did you tell me last time I disappeared on _you_? You should have woken me up! Or taken me with you!"

L bristled. "I tried to wake you up, but Light-kun is a heavy sleeper. I assumed I'd be back before you awoke."

"Yeah, well look how well that plan turned out," said Light, pulling out a bloody gun from under his shirt and throwing it onto the floor board of the car.

L raised an eyebrow. "So why _is_ Light-kun covered in blood and carrying a gun?"

"Huh, well, maybe you'd know if you had stuck around for the show!"

"You're being difficult on purpose," pointed out L, who took a particular sharp curve going faster than he should. Light's head slammed against the window.

"Seatbelt, Light-kun," murmurmed L.

"Fuck you, Lawli," growled Light, rubbing at the side of his head.

L didn't follow that particular insult up with a comeback, letting Light stew until he was ready to tell him what was going on. It didn't take long.

"Fucking Tank burst into the room this morning," started Light.

"Tank?" interrupted L, checking once again to see that the blood Light was covered in wasn't his own.

"Yeah, Tank. You were right to be suspicious of him, but he's not after you. He's an undercover MI-5 agent. He was sent by his boss at MI-5 to retrieve me for _interrogation_. More like torture, according to Tank."

L blinked. "That's -"

"And then the bastard took out his own gun and shot himself!" exclaimed Light.

"He's dead?" asked L, more than confused by what Light was telling him.

"No, at least, I hope not. The way he was talking bout it, he'll be fine. He told me we're even now, which I suppose we are, but I figured we were when he didn't kill me at Whammy's, but I guess that doesn't matter now. He gave me the gun and his car and told me to get out of the country because MI-5 would be at the motel at any minute, and when they found him, they'd start looking for me."

"What does MI-5 want with you?" asked L. He was obviously missing something. Did it have something to do with Light's biological parents?

"Apparently I have access to a weapon that will blow up the world," said Light, deadpanned.

L wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. He almost brought up the Death Note, but held his tongue. He knew how sensitive Light was to _that _subject.

"I don't fucking know, okay? Tank didn't know either – that's just what he guessed. The only thing I know for sure is that MI-5 has apparently been looking for me for a "loooong time," - here Light threw up the universal quotation fingers - "because I apparently have something of Roger's that was stolen from him years ago. I can only assume by my parents – why else would MI-5 think I have it? - but Tank didn't come out and say it, and -"

Light stopped.

L shot him quick glances between watching the road and the asshole who was tailgating him.

"And? . . . And what, Light?" asked L. Obviously Light had just come to some sort of realization, and L hated being in the dark about it. He made it a point not to be in the dark (figuratively and literally).

Light slammed his fist down on the armrest.

"That fucking piece of paper! That has to be it! Whatever's on that paper must somehow tell the location of the weapon. Or whatever the bloody thing is. Yeah, it makes sense. My biological father, who was in the MI-5, gave the paper to his brother, who gave it to me. And my mother, also in the MI-5, was the adopted daughter of Roger, so she was in the perfect position to steal whatever it was that she stole! And if that piece of paper wasn't important, then Greg wouldn't have hung on to it all these years. It makes sense!"

"It does make sense. However, I still do not see where I come into play in this conspiracy," said L, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip.

"Yeah, I haven't figured that part out yet either," admitted Light, leaning back into his seat.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to reschedule our flight to Japan. We can't very well fly out of London next week if we must escape the country today," said L, biting around his thumb in thought.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Where are we going to go?" asked Light.

"I'm thinking Germany," said L.

"Germany?"

"You remember Aiber, don't you?" asked L.

Light nodded. "We're going to him?"

"He has a safe house in Germany, and he's one of the only people I'd trust with our safety until we can get out of Europe. Obviously the government is looking for you, whether because you're a murder suspect or you supposedly have knowledge of a secret weapon that may or may not have the power to blow up the world. Either way, there'll be a manhunt for you now, so contracting Aiber to aid us, who is most certainly not involved in the government in any legal ways, is our best option. I would suggest flying to Japan today, but -" L pulled out the numbered paper.

"There's a bank in Germany that we need to visit, which makes Aiber all the better choice," said L, handing the paper to Light.

Light's eyes roamed the paper. "You figured it out?"

"Between the second and third muffin. It's a very simple code. So simple that it took me quite a few hours to break it. I studied it for awhile after you had gone to bed, but I only figured it out this morning," said L.

"So what is it?" asked Light, turning the paper around, as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

"It's -"

"Coordinates! Latitude and longitude! And . . . wait, you said a bank? An account number? Ah, here!"

Apparently it did jump out at him. L scowled. It had taken _him_ ages, but he consoled himself with the fact that he figured it out first. One point to him.

"Correct. Along with what I can only assume is a four digit personal pin number for identification purposes."

"So we're going to Germany to check it out?" asked Light.

"And we're staying with Aiber once we get there," finished L.

Light sighed. "This is a huge mess."

"Yes, Light-kun. It is."

"So how are we going to get out of the country?" asked Light.

"Europe works a little differently than Japan. We'll take the train. We won't need passports, but you still have yours on you, right?" asked L.

"Yeah, it's in my duffle," confirmed Light.

"Good. Then I only need Aiber to make one fake passport."

"But how did you get – oh. Private plane. I forgot," said Light, rolling his eyes.

"I'll introduce you to the pleasures of private air transport. You'll never be able to fly public again," promised L.

"Sure, sure," agreed Light, putting his seat down. "I'm exhausted."

"I'll wake you when we get to the station, if you care to sleep" said L, his eyes spending more time than necessary on Light's lithe form.

"Feel free to change clothes at anytime, Light-kun."

". . .Ass."

"Hmm."

It was at this moment that L noticed in his review mirror that the man who had been tailgating them for several miles was aiming a gun out of his window.

* * *

**A/N: **Ahh, the plot thickens - again. Squee! OMG! I had another "Ohhh shit that would be sooooo fucked up" moment. And it's bad. Like, anybody remember the last time I had that moment? I killed Light! BWAHAHAHA! OMG I'm so excited. I can't waaaaait. Actually, I have one really big OMG that's so fucked up moment, and then a minor one coming along laaater! Oh, wait, make that 1 big one, a minor one, then another big one! OHH WOW I'M SO EXCITED!

Happy Holidays! I hope I'll have another one up before I leave (yay east tn!), but if I don't, I'll see ya'll later! Feel free to say something! XD

Check out my new poll if you want (hahaha, i originally wrote pole!). It's not very interesting, but I wanted to look at something different when i clicked on my profile, lol. :D


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